


Line in the Sand

by Dragonstep



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable, Angst, Arcane Warrior, Battlemage, Cant resist those beefy boys, Crack, Cute, Dorks in Love, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fanservice, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Funny, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Lion Vs Bear, Love Triangle, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Pulling some class stuff from origins, Romance, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, There is going to be an actual storyline, supportive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonstep/pseuds/Dragonstep
Summary: The lion and the bear, though steadfast allies on the battlefield, will find themself determined foes in a matter concerning a particular woman. A new experience for them both, to be sure. (love triangle: Blackwall x Female!elf!OC x Cullen Rutherford) (M rating for steamy scenes and swearing, mild violence)





	1. A New Companion

The demons had been pouring out of the rift for days now, and for days, Arturia had been driving them back, keeping Dwarfson's Pass open for refugees fleeing the war. The passing travelers sometimes offered her lyrium draughts, which she gladly accepted to keep her strength up, but constant use of magic, the strain on her muscles, and lack of sleep were wearing on her. She had heard that the Inquisition was in the area, and the flow of refugees had lessened significantly, but no one came to aid with the rift, and the demons did not stop, so she fought on. How could she not? She had made a promise, one she intended to keep.

One day, one sunny afternoon, just as she felt she was going to drop from exhaustion, her salvation came. Over the hill came a small group, led by a dwarven woman, who stopped at the top of the hill to observe the rift. Arturia stumbled towards them, using her sword as a cane of sorts. "You!" The small party of four was wary of her, and rightfully so; she probably looked like death warmed over. "You, are you the one they call the Herald?" Arturia demanded of the dwarf, a woman wielding daggers with bleached hair shaved on the sides, sun-kissed skin with faded marks of the casteless, and baby blue eyes. The woman nodded. "Then close that damned rift!" Arturia growled breathlessly before falling at the woman's feet.

"Shit!" The dwarf knelt down in front of her, but didn't have time to do anything before demons started emerging from the rift once more. "We've got to close the rift first," one of her companions, a great bear of a man with a bushy black beard, shouted over the screeching of the demons. "Then we can help her!" The group rushed the rift, fighting with skilled cohesion. They knew each other relatively well then, though the bearded man was clearly the newest to the group. A skilled warrior, but he was used to fighting alone.

The mage, an elven man, and the other dwarf with a crossbow unlike any Arturia had ever seen, fought around the two close-quarters combatants with ease, never coming close to danger of friendly fire. These were no common soldiers. The demons were thwarted, and true to her word, the dwarven woman did indeed close the rift with a glowing mark on her left hand. Arturia laid her head on the cool grass beneath her, taking a deep breath, glad for rest at last.

"How long have you been out here?" The other dwarf asked Arturia, resting his hands on his knees as he squatted beside her. The elven man spoke with a smooth voice, "this must be the woman the refugees coming to Haven spoke about, the Guardian of Dwarfson's Pass. They believed you to be some sort of spirit. I have not seen such magic since some of my deepest journeys into the Fade, and your sword, it is of ancient elven make. Where did you find it, da'len?"

The dwarven woman, the Herald, cleared her throat. "Do you really think now is the time for an interrogation? The poor lady's probably half dead. Blackwall, you got any water left?" She sat down cross-legged beside Arturia and helped her sit up a little. The man with the beard, presumably Blackwall, handed her a water skin, which she downed gratefully. "Ma serannas,*" Arturia mumbled between gulps. She was parched.

"Forgive my manners," the elven man spoke once she had finished the water. "Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Solas." "Varric Tethras." "Warden Blackwall." "They call me the Herald of Andraste," the dwarven woman winked, "but you can call me Jelsi. Jelsi Cadash." Arturia sat up on her own, leaning back on the heel of her hand. "Arturia Zathrilen.* A pleasure. I am relieved you came when you did. I've been out here for… creators, I don't know how long. With the refugees fleeing the war, and no one else to keep the path clear, I had to keep fighting the demons off."

Blackwall offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. "Had to have been days, maybe weeks. That's some stamina you've got." Arturia shrugged. "I took naps when I could," she swayed on her feet, stumbling a little. "Passing travelers offered food, water, lyrium if they had it, bless them. Do… Do you have a camp nearby? I hate to impose, but I desperately need some rest, and a meal. I don't even care if it's hot."

Jelsi laughed, "a meal? For what you've done, I'll give you a whole damn buffet! Come on, can you walk? There's a camp just over the hill and down the road. Here, you can use my shoulder."

Arturia probably ate her weight in roast nug and mushrooms when they reached the camp. Adrenaline fading, her muscles started quivering, and she had to crawl into the bedroll given to her. She was content to lay by the fire, right in the middle of the day, and fall into a hard, dreamless sleep right then and there.

* * *

 

Arturia woke early the next morning, when the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. She felt better than she had in days. Finally waking up naturally instead of to the screeching of demons, she sat up slowly, stretching out her aching bones, and let out a soft groan. Her sword, Spellweaver, hummed softly next to her, and quieted when she brushed her fingers against the hilt.

"Where did you get it?" The elven man, Solas, was sitting by the last embers of the fire. Arturia noticed smudges of poultice on his fingers, and noticed the wraps on wounds on her body, mostly her arms. He had helped her. Very well, then she would answer his questions. "It was a gift. The Hero of Ferelden removed it from the hands of someone who shouldn't have it. She discovered the secrets it held as an arcane warrior's weapon in some ruins in the Brecelian Forest. She taught me the secrets she learned there. I fought the Archdemon with her during the Blight, and she gave it to me at the end of that battle, right before she sacrificed herself." Arturia lowered her gaze, saddened by the memory.

"Ir abelas,* da'len, I did not mean to bring up such painful memories." Solas waved his hand and brought the fire back to live, staving off the chill of the morning. Arturia held out her hands to it, glad for the warmth. She changed the subject. "So I've only heard pieces in passing. What's happening? What caused that rift? Is it true that there are more?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Solas told her everything, about the Breach and the Herald's mark, about the Inquisition, and about how they had driven the Templars and Mages from the Hinterlands, though they had not yet approached either group for help with the Breach. After listening, Arturia contemplated the situation.

Jelsi ambled out of her tent, her hair sticking up in all directions, her tunic hanging loosely from her shoulders, yawning and grumbling about the morning. "Morning," she mumbled and plopped down by the fire. Varric followed, and Blackwall was the last to rise, though he appeared to be a little more awake and well-groomed. An Inquisition scout from the camp offered them a breakfast of bread and dried figs. Arturia was happy to accept.

After allowing Jelsi time to wake up, Arturia approached her, sitting next to her on the log by the fire. "Jelsi, I would like to join, if you'll have me. Solas has told me about what you're doing, and I believe I can help." Jelsi nodded and swallowed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Yeah, I reckon you probably can, after holding off that rift for all that time. What kinds of magic can you do? Can you heal at all?" Arturia smiled a bit to herself, "while I know how to make some basic poultices, I know no healing magic. I do believe that you'll find me very useful in combat, however. Along with the talents of the arcane warrior, I studied as a battlemage and have a knack for storm magic." Jelsi took another bite of bread and mumbled around it, "sure thing, you can travel with me. Could always use more sparky sparky boom stuff. Why not?"

Once breakfast was done, Arturia pulled on her armor, Dalish ironbark armor, and thanked the scouts manning the camp for their help. Though her muscles still ached, she felt much better than she had when she had laid down to sleep the day before.

Blackwall approached her, seeming a bit awkward. After a moment, he held out his hand. "I look forward to travelling with you." Arturia smiled and took it, her slender hand engulfed in his. She shook it firmly. "The pleasure is mine." She looked him over, noting his armor. "You said you were a Grey Warden, right?" Blackwall cleared his throat and nodded, letting go of her hand. She smiled warmly at him, "a good bunch, you are." His steely blue eyes darted to the side, avoiding her gaze.

"Let's get moving! We've still got to clear the bandits from the East Road!" Jelsi called out. "Here's your chance, rabbit,* show me what you can do." Jelsi had a grin on her face, showing she knew exactly what she was saying. Varric raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth between them.

Though she could have chosen to be offended, Arturia recognized the remark for what it was. Jelsi wasn't trying to offend her. She was trying to break the ice. An odd way to go about it, but two could play at that game. "Alright, cloudgazer,* you're in charge." They shared a smile, and off they went, heading towards the East Road.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *my thanks
> 
> *There was no official name given for the clan of Dalish met in the Brecelian Forest during the events of Origins, so I named them after Zathrian, since he was a few centuries old and the Keeper.
> 
> *I am sorry
> 
> *derogatory term for elves
> 
> *derogatory term for surface dwarves who've lost their stone-sense
> 
> Arcane Warrior and Battlemage are Mage Specializations from Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening, and Storm is the lightning specialization for Inquisition. I will be going off of the skill trees for these abilities, though I will get creative with the extent of some of these abilities, especially since some of the descriptions aren't very detailed and leave plenty up to the imagination.


	2. Welcome to Haven

Jelsi decided it was best to avoid Redcliffe, where the true mage rebellion was holed up, until after addressing the clerics in Val Royeaux, so once they had picked off the last of the bandits in the East Road (and decided that the dragon could be dealt with at a later date), they opted to return to Haven. It was a long ride, but a pleasant one.

"So," Varric made conversation while they rode through the rolling hills between the Hinterlands and Haven, chilled by the breeze off of the massive Lake Calenhad. "I've been trying to come up with a nickname that suits you. So far, I've heard that you fought an Archdemon, held off a rift for a good long while, saw you eat your weight in nug meat, and saw you wipe out some bandits without breaking a sweat. Reminds me of a Mabari. I think I'm gonna go with Wolfhound." Arturia smiled a bit. "You make it sound like I fought the Archdemon myself. I was only a small part of that battle. And the bandits were-" "Absolute pussies," Jelsi finished, cackling on her horse. "Oh man, you sapped the energy right out of that one group, and the looks on their faces when Blackwall just knocked them over with one fell swoop? Glorious!"

Blackwall chuckled quietly. "That was rather satisfying. Then Solas froze those expressions in place, and you just went and shattered them, Cadash." Varric commented, "you had way too much fun kicking around those bloody shards of ice, Princess." Princess was his nickname for Jelsi. "What can I say?" The spunky dwarf grinned over her shoulder. "I got excited."

The mountains loomed in the distance, and the chill started to seep through their clothing. The Breach could be seen swirling in the distance. Arturia gulped, gazing up at it, the eerie green glow reflecting in her dark onyx eyes. She brushed a strand of cinnamon-coloured hair that had fallen out of her simple braid from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"You'll get used to it," Varric rode beside her. "Well, that's a lie, you never get used to it. But we'll close it." "You bet your ass we will," Jelsi put on airs for them. Good, they would need that charisma if they were to stand a chance. Arturia just hoped she could help.

* * *

They rode into Haven, stopping on the edge of a frozen lake to dismount. New recruits were training just outside of makeshift wooden fortifications around the village of Haven. Despite herself, Arturia was disgusted with their form. Oh well, they were just recruits.

"You there! There's a shield in your hand, use it! If that man were your enemy, you'd be dead." A man in armor with gold accents and a red coat with fur on his shoulders shouted from the forefront of the training soldiers. "That's Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's forces," Jelsi explained, elbowing Arturia in the thigh, since her elbow naturally reached that high, "and a total hottie." He was rather attractive, Arturia had to admit.

"You're back." A woman with cropped black hair and a stern expression approached. "Cassandra," Jelsi greeted her with outstretched arms. Cassandra did not return the gesture. "I assume you were successful in clearing out the East Road? Who is this?" Cassandra eyed Arturia suspiciously. Jelsi rolled her eyes. "Yes, we cleared it out. Arturia, this is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. Cassandra, this is Arturia Zathrilen, or as the refugees have been calling her, the Guardian of Dwarfson's Pass." Cassandra instantly dropped her aggressive stance. "That was you? Many here owe their lives to you. The rift there has been closed then." "Thanks to your Herald, yes. A pleasure to meet you," Arturia extended her hand. Cassandra took it, shaking firmly.

"Herald!" A woman in frilly golden clothing came jogging down the hillside. "I apologize for the interruption, but I have a matter that needs your attention." "Josie!" Jelsi was clearly happy to see this woman, happier than she had been to see anyone else. "Yes, of course, I'm coming. Blackwall, mind showing Arturia around? Solas, don't forget to look into those shards we found out near Dennet's farms." Solas nodded, "a good day to you all."

Arturia turned to Blackwall expectantly. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, it seems that our Herald has taken you into her inner circle, so we'll make our way around and introduce you to everyone. Let's start with Cullen. He's a former Templar, hope that won't bother you." Arturia waved her hand dismissively, "I was never in a circle, but thank you." They made their way through the training recruits to where the Commander was talking with a Lieutenant. When he saw them coming, he wrapped up his conversation. "Blackwall, you're back. Good to see you in one piece. This a new recruit? Good to see the Dalish want to help. We can start with some basic training right away."

Blackwall was about to correct him, but Arturia cut him off, "yes sir, show me the ropes." Blackwall gave her a bit of a bewildered look, then laughed a bit. "Commander, I can't, in good conscious, let you go in blind. This is Arturia Zathrilen, and she's no beginner." "You're no fun," Arturia smiled slyly. Cullen raised his eyebrow, but he was likely tired of dealing with green recruits right out of the farmers' fields anyway, and would be glad for someone with real experience. Little did he know… "Alright then, Arturia, let's see what you can do, though I will have to insist on training swords." "Of course, Commander."

Arturia set Spellweaver just outside of the training ring, making sure she could see it, not that anyone else could take it anyway. It was bound to her, and no one else could touch it with their bare hands without a nasty shock. She took up the training sword that Cullen offered and stepped into the ring, which was just a sandy area with a few posts around to mark the edges. Cullen shed his fur and stood across from her. "So where did they find you, Miss Zathrilen?" He asked, taking a lazy swing at her, which she easily blocked and returned. They were just testing the waters. "The Hinterlands," she replied, arching a blow overhead, which he met easily.

Their blows came faster, until they were actually putting in effort, then actually fighting. Blow after blow, they fought, their words replaced with the clang of steel. Even Cassandra stopped to watch. Though Arturia was a mage, her particular style of combat relied more heavily on her physical skill, and was just reinforced with magic.

Cullen landed a blow on her arm, causing her to stumble sideways. She blocked the follow-up, then smirked. "You know what they've been calling me, out in the Hinterlands?" She blocked his next blow and darted to the side. "What?" Cullen was glistening with sweat and on his guard.

"The Guardian of Dwarfson's Pass." Her eyes flashed, and her fingers twitched as her free hand went for a punch. It landed squarely on his chest, reinforced with magic, draining his strength and launching him back into one of the posts serving as a barrier.* He looked up at her, bewildered, then with a half-smile on his face. Blackwall let out a booming laugh from the depths of his chest. "I was wondering when you were gonna let him have it." Arturia offered her hand to Cullen, pulling him to his feet. "Never underestimate your opponent, Commander. I thought Templars were supposed to be able to recognize mages."*

"Maker's breath! That hurt." Cullen rubbed his chest, grunting. "Do you know how many years it's been since I've met a battlemage? Good fight." He grasped her forearm in a very Ferelden form of handshake, which she gladly returned. "Let me guess," Cullen took a towel from a nearby recruit that had been watching the sparring match, "the Herald has recruited you for her inner circle?" He wiped the sweat from his face. Arturia nodded, glad for the chill of Haven. She picked up Spellweaver from the side of the ring and strapped it to her back once more.

"I guess you're off to meet the rest of them then." Cullen bowed his head as a farewell. Arturia returned the gesture, "until we meet again, Commander."

She turned to Blackwall and followed him towards the stables and blacksmith's. "This is where you'll usually find me, if you ever need anything." They then went through the gates of Haven, into the village itself. "Over there," Blackwall gestured to the left, "is the Herald's cabin." Varric was standing by a bonfire just ahead, keeping his chest hairs warm. He waved at them as they went by.

"This is the tavern," Blackwall held open the door for her. Arturia ducked inside, the smell of warm bread and mead hitting her. "OI," a voice called out, "are you her? The hero the refugees been talkin about?" A young elven woman came bouncing up to them. Blackwall introduced her as Sera.

"You survived!" An older man, Arturia recognized him as one of the refugees, approached and shoved a mug of strong-smelling ale in her hand. "Look, fellas, it's the Guardian of Dwarfson's Pass! She lives! Let us buy you some drinks, girl, tell us your name."

They remained in the tavern for a few hours. When word got around that she was there, more of the refugees that had come from the Hinterlands filled the place, determined to thank her for clearing their way out. As an elf, Arturia was not used to gratitude, and of course accepted all of their offerings of buying her a drink against her better judgement. Arturia was not used to drinking.

By the early evening, she was plastered. "So much for meeting everyone today," there was humor in Blackwall's eyes as he put her arm over his shoulders and put his arm around her waist, supporting her as she stumbled out of the tavern. "I could nae jus tellem nooo," Arturia slurred and stumbled over her words, struggling to see straight. Sera laughed as she walked alongside them, having had her own share of the drinks. "Oh, she's fine, she can meet em tomorrow. Let her enjoy being a hero," Sera hiccupped, "what's the harm in a few drinks. Let her enjoy it! She's real pretty, yeah? Especially for an elf. And the dark blue stuff on her skin? Really working for her. I'd buy her a drink. I'd buy you a drink, Artie. Hey. Where's she sleeping anyway?"

They ended up putting her in one of the spare tents up where the quartermaster and Leliana had their quarters. She was more than content to just fall asleep there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I just need you guys to know that my exact thought for this scene was "Parry this you filthy casual" (if you haven't seen the meme, google it) but I couldn't just put that in there so that's what notes are for :D
> 
> *Cullen is no longer on lyrium at this point and doesn't have his Templar abilities


	3. Training Day

Arturia woke to a face inches away from hers. "I know you!" The tone was accusatory. Arturia blinked a few times, her head pounding. "Ugh… What?" She sat up, pushing the person away. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, realizing who the person was. She did in fact recognize Leliana, whom had traveled with the Hero of Ferelden. "Leliana?" Leliana knelt on the end of her sleep roll, scowling. "They said they had brought a mage with a sword in. I didn't think it was actually you."

Arturia stared at her for a long moment. "You've changed." Leliana paused at that. "Yes. I have. I… I apologize for bothering you." She crawled out of the small tent, saying over her shoulder, "Warden Blackwall is waiting for you. You have yet to meet the rest of the inner circle." She let out a heavy sigh. "I am glad it is you. You can be trusted, more than some of the others at least."

Arturia understood her harshness. They still mourned the Hero of Ferelden, even if it had been nearly a decade.

Arturia drank some water from her water skin, wiped her face, smoothed her hair back, and headed out. All she had with her was what she wore, so she left nothing of her own in the tent she had slept in. She headed down through Haven towards the blacksmith. She passed Solas on the way. "On dhea,* hahren," she greeted him respectfully. He seemed almost surprised, but quickly returned his expression to a pleasantly neutral one. "On dhea, da'len. I trust you slept well?" "Like the dead. I'm trying to find Blackwall. Am I headed in the right direction?" His lips curled upwards in amusement as he nodded, pointing her towards Haven's gates. "When you get the chance," he called after her, "I would like a word with you."

Blackwall was where he said he would be, by the blacksmith, gazing up at the Breach. Arturia cleared her throat, "good morning, Blackwall." He turned to her, his mustache curling up as he smiled. "Good morning. Glad to see you're still alive." She rolled her eyes playfully. "Never again. I have the worst headache." Blackwall reached into his pocket, "I figured you might," and pulled out a potion of elfroot and embrium. "Asked one of the chantry sisters to mix this up for you." Arturia downed it. "You're a treasure, Teddy Bear." He blushed at the nickname.

"Well," he cleared his throat, changing the subject, "when you're ready, we'll meet everyone else, then Cullen has asked if we'd help train some recruits. I usually help out in my spare time, and you're certainly no stranger to battle. Only if you want." Arturia smiled, "certainly. What about breakfast?" He tossed her an apple. She munched on it along the way. They made their way up towards the top of Haven, greeting Apothecary Adan, then making their way into the Chantry to meet First Enchanter Vivienne.

Vivienne looked up from her book, gracefully seated in her chair with her ankles crossed. "This must be our newest member. I hear you had quite the welcome last night, dear." Arturia smiled sheepishly. "I definitely learned a lesson or two." Vivienne laughed a bit, "I should certainly hope so." She stood, a good half foot taller than Arturia at least, especially with her heeled boots. "First Enchanter Vivienne, also known as Madame De Fer." "Arturia Zathrilen," the elf bowed her head respectfully, a gesture the enchanter graciously returned. "At some point, my dear, I'd love to hear more about your particular brand of magic." Vivienne returned to her seat. "But for now, you have much to do. It was a pleasure, dear."

Though Arturia felt a bit awkward meeting Mother Giselle at first, the kind woman soon put her worries at ease, and they parted on good terms. Meeting Josephine was pleasant but rushed, as she had some noble come bursting in and had to push them out.

"I think that's about everyone," Blackwall mused. "Shall we head down to the training yard?" Arturia asked, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. The cold wind was nipping at her nose, and she desired a good bit of training to warm up. Blackwall nodded and they walked down to the training yard, making conversation along the way.

"When did you become a Warden?" Arturia asked. "Oh, I don't know, a long time ago." Blackwall looked down at his feet. Arturia looked up at the sky. "I thought about joining the Wardens for a while, but with the aftermath of the Blight, I didn't get the chance before the sky tore open." Blackwall raised an eyebrow at her. "Ten years and you didn't get the chance?" Arturia laughed a bit. "Humans are so narrow-minded. The Blight doesn't end with the Archdemon. I helped chase the last of those bastards back into the deep roads, I helped identify the bodies, I helped rebuild, and the shock waves reached much farther than just Ferelden. My clan left Ferelden and went much farther north five years after the blight, when everything seemed to be fixed here. I went with them for a bit, but I decided to come back when I heard about the war. Then the sky ripped open, I ended up fighting to keep Dwarfson's Pass open for war refugees, and well, that's where you found me."

Blackwall nodded slowly. "Fair enough." "Besides," Arturia smiled to herself, "I promised the Hero of Ferelden I'd do what I could to protect people who couldn't protect themselves. Being a Warden isn't the only way to do that." Blackwall patted her shoulder warmly, "an admirable goal. I think you'll do just fine. You certainly had the right idea at Dwarfson's Pass, and I think the Inquisition will keep the streak going." She looked up at him with the hopeful eyes of a child. "You think?" "Sure I do. That's why I joined."

They reached the training yard, where Cullen and a gaggle of recruits were waiting. These were recruits that had the basics, and were ready to move up to more than just fighting each other. Cullen was giving a lecture on the difference between fighting people and fighting demons, and how these recruits would have to be prepared for both. He wasn't in his full armor, rather, some basic leather sparring gear. "This is going to be good," Blackwall chuckled quietly.

Cullen caught sight of them approaching. "So today, we'll be learning how to fight against a veteran soldier, and as close of an imitation to a demon as we can get." Arturia had to force the grin back off of her face. "Of course," Cullen continued, "I wouldn't send you in blindly without a demonstration of the proper techniques."

"He's trying to get back at you for yesterday," Blackwall whispered. Arturia shrugged. "Now that he knows what he's up against, he just might." She sighed, "I might have to let him, for training purposes. Damn it."

"Starting off with, a veteran soldier isn't going to show you any mercy. They're going to strike fast, hard, and where it hurts. Warden Blackwall, would you mind a quick sparring match as a demonstration to these recruits?" Blackwall shrugged off his heavy coat, leaving him in his linen tunic, and handed the coat to Arturia, "mind taking this?" Arturia folded it and hung it over some fencing for him. He had some broad shoulders. Arturia couldn't help but to admire them. She had always had a thing for human men, though she would never tell anyone. Sure, elven men were handsome and lean and graceful, but human men were just big and broad and powerful and she was a sucker for raw muscle. She was also fascinated by how fuzzy they tended to be.

Blackwall picked up a training shield and sword and stepped into the sparring ring. Cullen did the same, rolling his shoulders a few times. Arturia couldn't help but to admire the way the Commander's pants fit him. He certainly had some strong legs. She looked away, trying to keep the blush from her face. She reminded herself that she was supposed to be there as a professional, not some ogling da'len.

"Watch the way he attacks. It's not all about the arms. A good warrior uses his whole body, and knows a good defense is just as important as a good offense." Cullen took a few blows from Blackwall's sword to his shield, and kicked up some dust in Blackwall's face. "A lot of men you might face won't always be honourable," he chastised, but Blackwall was hardly phased, and hit him with a shield bash hard enough to push him backwards in the sand. Cullen retaliated with a leg sweep that knocked Blackwall over. The bear of a man rolled out of the way before the lion of a commander could pounce on him, and sprang to his feet with the energy of a much younger man.

"Remember to never underestimate your opponent," Arturia called out, a playful smile on her face. "And if you can help it," Blackwall added, beginning to barrage Cullen with attacks, "never give your opponent a chance to catch their breath." Cullen met each blow with equal force, grunting out, "always be on the lookout for opportunities to gain the upper hand." He ducked and drove his shoulder into Blackwall's stomach, pushing the slightly shorter Warden back into one of the posts. Blackwall grunted and wrapped his sword arm around Cullen's head, twisting around into a headlock.

Cullen drove the tip of his shield into Blackwall's back, which would leave a nasty bruise since he had no training armor on. Blackwall grunted and let go, shoving Cullen away from him. They turned towards each other, breathing heavily and staring each other down.

Then they shook hands, calling it a draw for the sake of time, and turned to the recruits. Cullen began to speak. "Fighting a well-trained soldier isn't easy. Up until now, you've been practicing with each other. Soon, you'll be paired up with someone more experienced, a Lieutenant or higher, and you'll get some harder training experience. But first, as members of the Inquisition, you also need to be prepared to fight demons. Miss Zathrilen here is no demon, but she can imitate some of the behaviors of one. Demons can manipulate the world around them. They are strong, they are fast, and they are deadly. When you are facing a demon head on, do not assume your back is safe." He motioned for Arturia to join him in the ring. She kept Spellweaver strapped to her back. "It'll make mimicking those effects easier; it acts as a staff," she explained. "You have my word that I will not draw it on you." Cullen nodded. There were other Templars around anyway.

Blackwall stepped out of the ring, leaning against a post and rubbing where the shield had hit his back. Arturia turned her full attention to Cullen. "Demons," she began, taking over his lecture, "will try to scare you. Don't let them." The air around them crackled, and the recruits took a few steps back, murmuring amongst themselves, but the Commander was unfazed. Cullen braced, then charged her, shield brandished. She cast Fade Shroud, a spell similar to fade-stepping, but with a sustained effect. She appeared as a ghostly figure. She stepped out of the way of the charge, and when Cullen's shield lashed out to the side to hit her, it passed right through her. It was uncomfortable, but she was unharmed. "Demons will drain you, they're jealous of your life and they'll try to take it from you." She reached out to touch Cullen, but he was smart enough to jump back, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was shivering. He cleared his throat. "This battle may seem hopeless, but demons have weaknesses just like anyone else. My shield may have passed through her that time, but she is not entirely in control of that. It wears down. Their connection to the Fade while in this world is weak, and they grow weaker the longer they fight." He charged her again, and this time, he hit her hard. She went flying back into the sand, her Fade Shroud dropping. Then the tip of Cullen's blade was resting on her chest.

"Demons may be scary, but they're not invincible," he said to his soldiers. He sheathed his sword and offered his hand to her. She took it, letting him hoist her to her feet. She told herself the redness of her face was from adrenaline. She brushed the sand from her back, then smiled at Cullen. "Well done, Commander."

They spent a good portion of the day training with the recruits. Fortunately, there was a decent supply of lyrium on hand, so Arturia could mimic demons for them, letting the soldiers get used to the chill and the draining feeling that came along with fighting them. She also got to know Cullen and Blackwall a little better. Just little things, like where they were from, what made them blush when she flirted; just little things. She wasn't quite shameless, but she did enjoy herself. She couldn't help it. They were her type.

Eventually, they sent the exhausted trainees off for the day. Arturia leaned against one of the sparring ring's posts while Blackwall and Cullen discussed the day's training. It was mid-afternoon, and Arturia was sweating, so she shed her ironbark armor, though she kept her long sleeve tunic on, and re-strapped Spellweaver to her back. She didn't like to be without it.

"Alright then Blackwall, you fight her," Cullen strode over to the sparring ring. "Arturia, you haven't sparred against Blackwall yet, have you?" She laughed a bit, "is he making fun of you, Commander?" "No," Cullen almost rolled his eyes at that one. "I suppose it's just… why not? Unless you're tired, there's always tomorrow."

"No," Arturia stretched her arms above her head. "I wouldn't mind." She unstrapped Spellweaver from her back and set it aside. "I will ask that you allow me a small lyrium shot. I am rather drained." Blackwall nodded. She downed a small vial of it, the blue liquid like boiling ice down her throat. She stepped into the ring with Blackwall and a training sword.

Blackwall had no shield, which was unusual. "A fair fight," he explained. "Hardly fair when I could punch right through your ribs," Arturia commented. Blackwall smiled a bit, his eyes twinkling beneath his bushy brows. "You wouldn't though." Damn him. Arturia shook out her sword arm and took a fighting stance. Cullen leaned against the fence to watch.

Arturia struck out lazily with the sword, but Blackwall just knocked it away with his forearm. Arturia laughed a bit, "cocky, are we?" Blackwall chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, but said nothing. Then in one swift movement, he dropped his shoulders and swept Arturia's legs right out from under her, tossing her over his shoulder and into the sand behind him. He looked down at her with an amused smile. "Hardly a fair fight when you're not paying attention." He scolded playfully. "I've yelled at soldiers for less," Cullen added.

Arturia giggled wickedly, her freckled nose wrinkling as she scrunched up her face. "Oh, we're playing those games, are we?" She brought her hand up and waved her fingers. Blackwall's expression went from one of amusement to one of shock as ice creeped up his back. He jumped away, "that's cheating!" She let her hand drop and cackled, leaning her head back. She got up and brushed sand off of her rear, still grinning. "Come on, Teddy Bear, fight me."

Blackwall donned a shield. Good choice, because Arturia put a hefty amount of magic into a solid punch that landed on it. She used the distraction to bring her sword up from the side, knocking it against Blackwall's hip. He used his strength and height to push her back with the shield, his sword arm pushing hers away. He soon had her pressed up against one of the posts around the ring, holding her body with the shield and her sword with his sword. She rather liked the position, but she hated losing, so she channeled a magical blast of force that sent him stumbling back. With no staff to channel her magic, the blast used up the last of her mana, so she was left without magic.

Blackwall struck at her with his sword. She parried his blows, one after another, until he hit her with a shield bash she had no defense against. She side-stepped in hopes of getting around him, but he was no fool, and didn't let her get away. He bashed his shield into her torso, knocking her to the ground, and pressed his blade to her chest.

Arturia huffed, "fine, you win." Blackwall helped her to her feet. "You're out of magic," he commented. "That's what happens when you use it all day." She grunted, popping her back a few times. "Ouch."

Cullen gave her a sympathetic look. "Maybe you should lie down for a while, stretch out. Where are your quarters?" Arturia shrugged. "No clue. Slept in a tent up by the Quartermaster last night, but I was just kind of… put there." Blackwall laughed a bit. "She got drunk; we had to put her somewhere." Cullen looked as if he had an epiphany, "that's why Threnn's assistant looked so pissed this morning. Well, you can't stay there. We could probably get you a tent out here if you like, though it might take a bit to find one."

"You can have mine until we do," Blackwall offered. "I'd be more than content sleeping in the hayloft in the meantime." "Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that," Arturia shook her head, "but the hayloft does sound nice. I've slept in such places before. No one will mind?" Cullen shook his head, "no one will mind, but surely not the hayloft, we can do better than that!" Arturia smiled at him, "it's only temporary, Kitty. No need to fret." He did a double take. "Kitty?" She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Your coat on your armor is supposed to mimic a lion, isn't it?" Blackwall snickered and added, "I think it suits you." Cullen rolled his eyes, "oh shut up,  _Teddy Bear_."

After a small fit of giggles, Arturia gathered her armor and Spellweaver in her arms. "I think I will go have a lie down. Oh, the river here is frozen, where does it thaw out again? I should like to bathe after all that mess." "I'm afraid you'll have to draw water from the well," Cullen answered. "The river doesn't thaw for miles." "Damn. I'll figure something out. Thank you." She waved goodbye to them and headed off to the barn, where she crawled into the hayloft for a pleasant nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *good morning


	4. Dumb Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: On the pronunciation of Jelsi’s name, I want to just clarify its pronounced like yelsi and not the hard j. Enjoy this horribly cliché chapter with embarrassed sweetheart Cullen. His character is so much fun to write with. Bless his heart.

 

Arturia woke up later in the evening when hunger demanded she find something to fill her belly. The sun was setting, and filtered through the gaps in the wood panels of the barn. Arturia picked some hay out of her braid before climbing out of the hayloft, leaving her armor behind, opting to buy a warm fur coat from Seggrit for a sovereign, more than it was worth. She bought a size too big so it would fit over Spellweaver on her back. She then headed to the tavern for some hot stew and bread.

Solas approached her after supper, and she remembered that he had asked to speak with her. “I apologize for not coming to see you sooner,” she began, but he merely smiled, “I understand. The Inquisition’s soldiers need training, and few can mimic a demon’s unique abilities. I simply wished to ask about your abilities. Perhaps we can learn from each other.” Arturia nodded thoughtfully. “You travel the Fade, right? You must know a lot of history.” They spent a few hours discussing elven heritage. While there were plenty of disagreements, Arturia was willing to learn, and Solas was eager to test her mastery of being an Arcane Warrior.

“There you are!” Jelsi came jogging over, the torchlight bouncing off of her hair. “Arturia, I’ve been looking for you. Solas, mind if I steal her away for a bit?” Solas shook his head, “not at all. Thank you for the pleasant chat, Arturia.” Arturia smiled. “Have a good evening, Solas.” She stood and followed Jelsi, who seemed way too excited. “What is it, Jelsi?”

Jelsi had that gleam in her eye, and Arturia knew that whatever was about to come out of the dwarf’s mouth was going to be a horrible idea. She was soon proven correct. “So the few mages that survived were talking about ways to bathe, and one came up with this really fun challenge. Just down the river is a little hole that moves too much to freeze over completely, but it’s really sodding cold, and too shallow to actually drown in, well I might be able to but you’ll be there so it’ll be fine; so the idea is to get absolutely hammered before you get in so you don’t feel the cold. You in?” Definitely a bad idea. “Hell yeah I’m in, but you’re buying.”

With the strong stuff at the tavern, it didn’t take them long to get that pleasantly heated feeling in the pits of their stomachs. They had towels and warm coats at the ready, and hurried down to a swirling pool of water was where an underground stream joined the main river. “Alright,” Jelsi stripped, “we gotta get in quick. All at once, that’s the way to do it. I’m going to jump.” She climbed up on a short rock and leaped into the water, letting out an ear-piercing screech when she surfaced. “It’s fuckin COLD! Get in! It’s probably about 6 feet so if you jump, bend your knees, elf lady!” The dwarf laughed as her teeth chattered.

Sober enough to know it was a bad idea but drunk enough to do it anyway, Arturia stripped and climbed up on the rock, only a few feet above the water. The moonlight shone on her pale skin in stark contrast with the dark blue vallaslin of Mythal covering her body. The wind chilled her to the bone. “Jump in!” Jelsi shouted, splashing around. Arturia giggled despite herself. She took a leap, hearing another voice from behind her, “Maker’s _breath!_ ” She hit the water, and it was indeed cold. She surfaced, the wind knocked out of her, gasping for air. “ _Creators_ it’s cold!”

“What are you two _doing?_ ” A flash of gold could be seen peering over the rock, and a broad figure stood at the water’s edge. “Bathing!” Jelsi shouted. “Join us, Josie!” Arturia wiped the water from her eyes and spotted Cullen, wide-eyed with his cheeks aflame. “We heard you scream,” he explained, averting his gaze.

Jelsi cackled as she the poor man. “Oh relax, Commander! It’s just a bit of skin. The water hides it well enough.” Arturia realized he must have seen her before she jumped. She blushed darkly, hiding her smile behind her hand. Between that and the alcohol, she found herself quite warm.

“Please come out before you freeze to death!” Josephine scolded, their towels in her hands. Cullen quickly turned his back. Jelsi snorted, her laughs catching in her throat as she shivered. Arturia swam for shore, pushing Jelsi along with her. “She’s right,” Arturia was also in that giggly phase of being cold and drunk. “We’ll catch our deaths. We’re clean now, let’s get out.”

They stumbled onto the riverbank, wrapping themselves in their towels. Jelsi’s engulfed her body, but Arturia’s barely brushed against her mid-thigh when she wrapped it around her shoulders. The water had been quite sobering, and the chill was getting to her. “Where are your coats?” Josephine was fussing, looking around for the furs.

Something warm and heavy rested on Arturia’s shouders. It smelled of leather oil, grass, dirt, and books. Cullen had put his fur mantle on her shoulders. He avoided looking at her, his cheeks visibly red even in the white moonlight and the eerie green glow of the Breach. She hugged it closer, grateful for the warmth it gave.

“Shit, we did bring coats, right?” Jelsi was shaking like a leaf. Arturia nodded, frowning, her attention drawn from Cullen. “They should have been right with the towels.” “Here they are!” Josephine pulled them from a snowbank. “It looks like snow from the tree fell on them.” Arturia winced at the idea of abandoning the warm mantle for the snow-filled fur coat. Jelsi, on the other hand, practically leapt at Josephine, who laughed as she wrapped the feisty dwarf in the coat. “Please don’t do anything this foolish again. We cannot lose you to hypothermia, of all things!” Jelsi grinned up at her, “you should join me next time.”

“I cant believe you would do something so foolish,” Cullen began to scold Arturia, but faltered when she gave him puppy eyes, barely able to hold back her smile. He tore his gaze away from hers, clearing his throat. “No more drinking for you.” “Oh, yes sir!” She grinned. He crossed his arms, trying his best to look stern, but he was too embarrassed to pull it off. He took her coat from Josephine and put it over her shoulders on top of his mantle. The double layer was quite warm, and Arturia let out a little sigh of delight. “Thank you, Cullen.” His expression softened. “Of course.”

Jelsi sneezed, the shrill sound startling the other three. Josephine sighed. “I’m going to take her back to her quarters and get her warmed up. I trust you can get Arturia back safely, Commander?” Cullen nodded, “I’ll take care of it. Arturia, where are your shoes?” They picked up the scattered items of clothing, though at that point, Arturia’s feet were too swollen from the cold to fit into her boots, and the snow had soaked her clothing through. She resigned herself to walking, starting off at a brisk pace, when she was scooped up into a pair of strong arms and a warm chest. “Like I’d let you lose anything to frostbite,” Cullen’s chest rumbled with his voice. Arturia hid her grin behind the layers of fur around her as he carried her back. She laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. The leather oil from the straps of his armor, the grass and dirt from the training yard giving him a wonderfully earthy smell, the slight hint of books, old paper and ink, perhaps from maps and meetings and paperwork, and beneath it all, just the smell of him. It was rather delightful, and certainly comforting.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” his voice was soft as they passed between rows of tents full of sleeping recruits. “I can’t climb a ladder and carry you at the same time.” Arturia stifled her giggles, “I won’t.” She listened to his breathing, hardly strained by the effort of carrying her, slow and steady, following the pace of his footsteps, two for each breath. He was taking his time.

The cold nipped at her bare feet and crawled up her legs, so despite the comfort of the moment, she wanted him to move a little faster. She twitched her fingers and felt him stiffen as frost crawled down his neck. “You little brat,” he growled softly. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh. “I don’t want to be the only cold one,” she peered up at him. She wasn’t quite expecting the look of hunger and desire that filled his eyes and tugged the corner of his lips up into a smirk. Her face heated up.

They reached the barn and he set her on her feet. “Up you go.” He sounded almost resigned. She tilted her head a bit. He raised his eyebrow, “you’re sober enough to climb the ladder, right? I’ll go up second to make sure you don’t fall.” She nodded and turned to the ladder, slowly making her way up into the hayloft. She crawled onto the blanket she had laid over some hay, turning to see Cullen sitting on the edge of the hayloft. He had his back to her. “Take the towel off. It’s still wet and will sap heat from you,” he kept his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb the peace of the barn. Arturia did as she was told, taking off the two layers of coats and peeling the towel away. She pulled her own coat back on, assuming Cullen would want his back.

“Finished?” He was so polite. She liked it. “Yes,” she replied, smiling at him when he turned to face her. She held out his coat to him. He took it from her, then covered her up with it. “You’ll need it more than I will tonight. You shouldn’t have-“ she cut him off, “I shouldn’t do a lot of dumb things, but I do, and I’m still alive. Quit fretting, it’s just some cold water.” He gave her a look, and she stuck his tongue out at him.

He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re something else,” he said, running his gloved fingers through his blond curls. “I try,” she wrapped her fur-clad arms around one of his, leaning on him. “You know…” She was feeling rather bold. “If you’re so concerned about me being cold, you could stay and keep me warm.” Cullen’s face was turned away from her, but she could see his ears turning dark. He coughed a couple of times, trying to regain himself.

Finally, he spoke. “Believe me, I’d like to, but…” She felt her stomach fall. Was there someone else? “You’re drunk, and I haven’t known you that long. I just… It wouldn’t be right.” Oh, he was such a sweetheart. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early, to kick your ass again.” He let out a soft laugh, “you can try. I’m prepared this time around, remember?” She shoved him playfully. He let out a little growl, and she liked it more than she cared to admit.

He noticed. “I’d better go before I get myself into trouble,” he took hold of her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Sleep well,” he looked her in the eyes as he kissed her hand. She felt her heart melt. He smiled as he descended the ladder and left her there, a bashful mess. Since when had anyone been able to make her feel like some silly little schoolgirl? How dare he?

She loved it.


	5. Leaves

"You are a bad influence, Miss Herald."

Arturia woke to a deep voice of Blackwall down below the hayloft, followed by the higher-pitched bubbly voice of Jelsi trying to hold back giggles. "It's not like she didn't encourage me!" "You might have given her hypothermia. I still don't think she could come with us." Arturia could practically hear Blackwall crossing his arms. She could also hear Jelsi's hands on her hips. "Oh please, she's a mage, she'll be fine. Besides, it's warmer in the Hinterlands than it is here, and we need her. The mages are much more likely to talk to us if we have a mage that's a local hero with us. And hey, where's the concern for me?" Jelsi faked indignancy. Blackwall snorted, "you've got a little more meat on you to keep warm." "Are you calling me fat?"

Arturia lifted her head, struggling to open her heavy eyes. Judging by the light filtering through the gaps in the wood panels, it was late morning. She had overslept. She grunted and pushed herself into sitting up, slumped over with the Commander's fur mantle covering her. "Oh listen to that, you've woken her up with your fussing," Jelsi huffed. Blackwall sputtered and protested, "we were about to wake her anyway!"

Arturia heard heavy footsteps coming up the ladder. She lifted her head just as Blackwall peered over the edge of the hayloft. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You look a mess," he rumbled, his voice soft as if he were speaking to a sleepy child. She couldn't help but to smile. "I feel like one." She tugged her fingers through her hair. It was sticking out in all directions and hopelessly tangled. Blackwall grunted as Jelsi apparently got tired of waiting and climbed up his back, since he was on the ladder. "Yikes! You need a hairbrush. Scratch that, bring out the ironing board."

It took a while for Arturia to wrangle her hair back into a presentable braid, but at least it was clean. Blackwall went off to bring her something to eat while Jelsi helped her with her hair. "So, that's the Commander's mantle, I see," the dwarf had a wily grin. Arturia blushed darkly. "Nothing happened, so get those ideas out of your head, durgen'len.*" Jelsi snorted, "that's a damn shame, by his good mood this morning you would have thought he got lucky. He's all dreamy smiles, when he's not yelling at recruits. He's been glancing towards the barn all morning." She lowered her voice, as if telling a secret. "Blackwall won't let him near it. Went so far as to bring out his horse for him when he was showing some trainees how to slash down from horseback."

Arturia hid her face in her hands. "Nonsense, you're pulling my leg." "It's true!" Jelsi swung her feet over the edge of the hayloft. "You ready? No doubt our bearded friend will have your breakfast outside by now. Can't have it in here, wouldn't want to encourage mice." The thought of food made Arturia pull on her boots faster. She strapped Spellweaver to her back, hung Cullen's fur over her arm, and slid down the ladder.

The elven woman shielded her eyes from the sun as she emerged from the barn. It was high overhead, though not quite midday. Blackwall approached with a steaming bowl, a slight smile causing his mustache to twitch when he spotted them. "Here you are," he offered Arturia the bowl. She downed it, nearly scalding her throat, but she was hungry and she had things to do. "So," she drank some water after, "where are we off to today?"

"Redcliffe," Blackwall stated. "The Herald has decided to approach the rebel mages for aid in closing the Breach." Arturia nodded, understanding, "and you think my presence might make things smoother?" She looked down at the dwarf by her side. Jelsi shrugged, "that's what Josie said. I'm inclined to agree." "I was never a Circle mage, you know." Blackwall scratched his beard, asking, "does it matter?" Arturia laughed a bit, "I'm not sure. If it's anything like the difference between a Dalish and city elf, then yes, it certainly does. Still, I'd be happy to accompany you. My reputation in the area should still be of some use, even if my magic isn't."

"Remember, always swing your sword away from your horse, never towards. It doesn't matter how good you think your hold is, accidents happen, and you don't want to hit your own mount." Arturia looked down towards the training yard, where Cullen's voice boomed out from the back of his horse. He made quite a sight, sitting on the back of the massive Ferelden Forder, his armor shining in the sun, his sword drawn, his face stern as he lectured.

Blackwall cleared his throat. "About your little swim last night…" He sounded uneasy. Jelsi snorted, clearly amused. "Don't worry, bearded wonder, nothing happened. He was a perfect gentleman to our drunken skinny dipping friend here. Even left his coat to keep her warm." "Jelsi, felasil!*" Arturia frowned at her. "It was your idea!" She noticed Blackwall's look of relief. It was comforting to know he was concerned for her, but she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

"Who else is coming with us?" Arturia asked, shaking her head at Jelsi's devious expression. Blackwall replied, "Vivienne." "Only the four of us? Is that wise?" Jelsi shrugged, putting her hands in her pockets. "Any more and they might think we're trying to intimidate them." That made sense.

Arturia left Cullen's mantle hanging on a fence beside the training yard, giving him a pleasant smile when she caught his eye. He gave them a wave and wished them luck in the endeavor. They mounted their horses when Vivienne was ready and headed out.

* * *

Of course, they couldn't make it to Redcliffe in a day, so they stopped for the night in the shelter of a rocky overhang to shield them from the worst of the wind. Vivienne started a fire from the wood Blackwall collected. Arturia sat by it, still a little chilled to the core, and hugged her coat close. She had set her weapons and armor aside with her pack for now, just to the right of her feet, and was just trying to get warm.

"You look freezing," Blackwall commented as he tossed another log on the fire. Arturia grumbled incoherently as she rubbed her arm, a bit of sparks flying from her hands, trying to use her magic to keep warm without setting herself on fire. Blackwall sat down beside her, grunting as he lowered himself onto the soft earth. "Did you two really think it was a good idea to swim in those conditions?" He lifted his knee, resting his arm on it, his other hand resting just behind her, propping him up. He was sitting close enough that she could smell the tang of pine sap that always seemed to cling to him, probably from the woodcarving he did when he wasn't fighting. She laughed a bit, "it seemed like fun at the time, and in all fairness, we did have fun." She watched Jelsi running through the trees on the other side of the camp as dusk fell around them. That was the dwarf's way of stretching out her legs after a day's ride. "Like a hyperactive toddler," Arturia mumbled to herself. Vivienne was out for an evening stroll, and likely picking some of the sweet berries that grew in those parts.

Arturia began to laugh. "I cant believe you actually called her fat this morning." Blackwall huffed, "I did not call her fat and you know it." She grinned, pushing his shoulder playfully, "you that mean to all the ladies, teddy bear?" "Oh I'll show you mean." He gave her a shove and sent her sprawling in the dust. "What was that for?" She pouted, barely containing her grin. He laughed, leaning back on both hands. "You started it."

"I'll finish it too." She called a bit of magic to her hand and planted it squarely on his chest, winking at him, then sending him sliding back into the rock face about ten feet behind them. He grunted as he hit it. "Oh, you're mean," he got to his feet. "Can't let you get away with that." She grinned, "what are you gonna do, teddy bear?"

"If you're going to roughhouse," the no-nonsense voice of Vivienne stopped them in their tracks, "do it somewhere you won't mess up our camp." Blackwall cleared his throat. "Yes ma'am." Arturia rolled her eyes, "alright. Let's go for a walk. I need to stretch my legs after riding all day anyway."

The two walked in comfortable silence for a while, following a game trail along a small stream that wound around the foothill. They didn't wander far, and went at an easy pace. Arturia was the first to start small talk. "A Grey Warden, huh?" She felt repetitive, but it was as good of a topic as any to start a conversation. "Have you fought a lot of darkspawn?" Blackwall shrugged. "Not many, but I've fought my share. Scary bastards, they are." He looked down at her, his eyes dark in the lowlight of the evening. "You've probably fought more than I have. You were in the battle of Denerim during the last blight, weren't you?"

Arturia shivered at the memory. "Yes." She swallowed, her mouth dry. "Scary bastards." She shook her head. "Let's talk about something else." Blackwall nodded, looking down at the stream. He opened his mouth, as if he were going to speak, then closed it again. Arturia tilted her head, "pardon?" "Oh, nothing. Thought better of it." Arturia laughed a bit, "were you going to call me fat?" Blackwall furrowed his eyebrows. "I did not call her fat!" "Whatever you say, teddy bear." Arturia hid her smile behind her fingers.

"Does it really cover your whole body?" Blackwall asked, scratching the back of his neck. "Your tattoos. What are they called? Val… something." "Vallaslin," Arturia corrected. "Yes. From the lines on my face, it goes around to my spine, and forms a sort of shield there. Those lines reach around the front and go down my legs and arms in patterns to honour the great protector, Mythal."

"It's lovely." He said quietly. He looked at the ground, clearing his throat. "I mean, it suits you. I'm sure it's not really there to be pretty, I just- I meant… shit… anyway, it's getting dark." Arturia smiled and waved her hand, and a small ball of blueish light emerged from her palm, hovering over her shoulder. Blackwall was blushing. "Well that takes care of that," he mumbled. "We can head back," Arturia offered. "No, it's fine," he scratched his cheek, "I rather like it here. Unless you're cold." Arturia shrugged. "It's warmer here than it was in Haven."

He put his arm around her and pulled her close to his side. He was radiating heat. "How's that?" He kept walking with her, looking anywhere but her. She smiled to herself, quite happy for the warmth. "Ma serannas.*" She said, putting her hand on his back so it wasn't awkwardly tucked against his side.

"Just don't go jumping into frozen rivers stark naked again, alright? Damn fools, the both of you. A good thing Sera wasn't there, I bet she would have done it too." Blackwall scolded, though the slight shaking of his chest showed that he was trying not to laugh. Arturia rolled her eyes, "you would have too. Don't deny it." Blackwall gave her shoulders a squeeze. "I would not. I'm not that stupid." Arturia sent a little tingle of electricity up his spine. He jumped, "oh, none of that, missy, I'll push you in the stream." She scoffed, "you're lecturing me about jumping in cold water and now you go and threaten to throw me into cold water?" She squeezed his side. He let out a grunt.

"Wait, are you ticklish?"

"Absolutely not."

"You are!" She began to tickle his sides with both hands ruthlessly. At first he tried to hold it in, but after a few seconds he started laughing helplessly. "Stop that! STOP! Arturia, enough!" He tried shoving her, but she wasn't having it, and grinned devilishly as she got his coat buttons undone, giving her access to his ticklish tummy with nothing but his thin shirt to shield it.

He finally stopped her by way of bear hug. He pinned her arms to her sides, breathing heavily. "You little brat," he growled, trying to sound stern, but he was grinning and mostly breathless. She only came up to his chest and had to lean back in his arms to see his face. She put on her best innocent expression. "Blackwall," she whined, "you're crushing me." "You deserve it," Blackwall huffed and let her go, though he caught hold of her wrists. "You listen here," he tried scolding her, but she burst into a fit of giggles. He struggled to keep from smiling, and eventually the smile took over his face. "You're horrible," he let her go.

She immediately tickled him again, then bolted. "Oh that's IT!" He roared and gave chase, tearing through the forest after her. She laughed as she darted nimbly down the trail, her feet hardly disturbing the dust, while he crashed through everything in his path. They both knew he would never catch her in the woods, where she was most at home. When he reached out and caught hold of the hem of her shirt, it was because she let him.

"It's a good thing you're pretty," he commented as he scooped her up, squealing, in his arms and tossed her over his shoulder, "or you'd be in the stream. Now what'll it be, Miss Zathrilen?" He spun in circles a few times, making her laugh like a child. "Would you prefer to be tickled, or shall I toss you into a pile of leaves?" "Leaves! Please, Blackwall, the leaves!" Arturia was extremely ticklish, and just his hands on her waist was enough to make her squirm, kicking her legs as she braced her hands on his back.

"Did I hear both? Both it is then!" Blackwall marched off the trail and tossed her into a pile where leaves had been swept by the leaves and trapped by tall grass. She squealed when she landed, and barely had time to sit up before he was kneeling over her, tickling her sides. She shrieked and hit his arms, laughing helplessly. "Noooooooo! Blackwall! Please, I'm sorry!  _Please!_ " She tried to roll away, and when that didn't work, she brought her leg up and planted her foot on his chest, using the ground to push him away.

He moved back, then laid down in the leaves beside her, chuckling. "I hope you'll remember that your actions have consequences, young lady." She huffed and tossed a handful of leaves in his face. He laughed, blowing them into the air. Her mage light hovered above them, illuminating their faces in the gentle light.

She rolled on her side and reached over to pluck a stray leaf from his beard. He caught hold of her hand, examining the vallaslin that graced the back of it, its delicate tendrils stopping just short of her first knuckles before her fingers. His hand was much larger than hers. "Did it hurt?" He asked, his thumb tracing over one of the lines. "Yes, but it wouldn't be a test if it didn't." She answered honestly.

He pulled her hand to his face and gently kissed it, his beard tickling her fingers. Heat rose to her face, but she didn't say anything. His lips didn't linger long. He moved her hand to rest on his chest, his own resting on top of it, not holding her there, just resting. He laid his head back in the leaves, closing his eyes. "I don't get a lot of quiet moments," he said wistfully. "Certainly not with someone else. Training, fighting, comradery, drinking, it's all great, but relaxing moments like these are nice too."

"I know what you mean." Arturia had a pleasant smile on her face and a pink tinge to her cheeks. She spoke in soft tones. "Even in the Dalish clans, we're always moving, always doing something, and even if someone does get tossed in the leaves," Blackwall let out a brief chuckle at that, "they're up and moving again as soon as the roughhousing was over. There's never time to just lay there and breathe, or look at the vallaslin on someone's hand." He curled his fingers around her hand, since it hadn't moved from his chest.

"Come here," Blackwall mumbled. He opened his coat and put his other arm around her, pulling her closer. "You'll freeze, you tiny thing." "I'm not that small!" She protested. "Humans are just large." Still, she shifted closer to him, settling in his open coat to share his heat and laying her head in the crook of his shoulder. It was delightfully comfortable and warm. Feeling rather drowsy, she yawned. "They'll come looking for us," she mumbled, nodding off. "Let them look," he answered. She was already asleep.

Blackwall lay awake for a while longer, and when the chill of the night started to set in, he carried her back to the camp where Vivienne slept and Jelsi sat on watch. Jelsi gave him a knowing smile, but said nothing. He ignored it. He tucked Arturia into her sleeping roll, added another log to the fire, and relieved Jelsi of the watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *elvish word for dwarf, literally "child of stone"
> 
> *you fool
> 
> *Thank you
> 
> I see Blackwall as a very playful romantic, when he isn't trying to push someone away. As shown by his party banter, he's not always brooding about his past and the weight of the Herald's destiny, and since Arturia isn't the Herald, I figured he'd be a little more willing to pursue her.


	6. Companionship

Arturia was surprised by how unwilling she was to face the demons that were hounding Redcliffe's gates.

They were riding down the road to Redcliffe in the early afternoon when a soldier came running towards them. "Oh thank the Maker! You have to help! Demons, they're everywhere! We can't get through!" The soldier, badly wounded, just collapsed on the side of the road. Vivienne had jumped down from her horse to help her. "Keep going," the enchanter called, "I'll join you in a moment!"

Arturia spurned her horse into a gallop, flying down the trail, and came screeching to a halt right in front of the rift. She jumped off her horse and pulled Spellweaver from her back, but the sight of the despair demon turning towards her made her blood run cold. The mere memory of fighting for days on end was enough to make her limbs heavy, but this was no time to quit.

Besides, something was very wrong with these demons. They weren't moving like they should. Some were faster, some were slower. It made combating them difficult.

Arturia started with a barrage of lightning, calling a tempest around her before the others reached her. She ceased it as Jelsi reached her, and focused on smaller, individual attacks. Friendly fire was not a good thing, after all, and lightning on a large scale could not be controlled so delicately.

Arturia went after a terror demon, slashing at it with Spellweaver, calling forth flame to burn it. Her left foot stepped into one of the time vortexes where the demons seemed off, and she saw one of them speeding towards her much faster than it should have been. She barely had time to turn her head.

Blackwall's shield came up in front of her and blocked the would-be head shot from the rage demon. "Be more careful, little miss," he grunted. "Thank you, Teddy Bear." She turned around and an unsteady stream of fire from her left hand at a despair demon while he fought the rage demon.

Jelsi sealed the rift once they defeated the demons, and Vivienne rejoined them soon after. They calmed their spooked horses, and the gates of Redcliffe opened for them. Needless to say, the people in side were happy to see them. Grateful for being rid of the rift at their gates, they even put their horses up in the stable free of charge.

Arturia followed Jelsi towards the local inn, where Grand Enchanter Fiona had asked to meet with her. Something didn't feel right. Arturia entered the inn first, looking around. She spotted Fiona, but clearly Fiona hadn't been expecting them. Something was definitely wrong here.

Arturia lingered back. The whole place was strange. She had seen many of these people before, when she was fighting in Dwarfson's pass, but none of them seemed to recognize her. Many even seemed to be suspicious of her.

Jelsi sat down with Magister Alexius after learning that Fiona had practically sold her people to Tevinter to try and talk him into an alliance. Arturia's gaze landed on a young man's, and she knew immediately that he was blighted. She had seen it too many times before. She glanced at Blackwall, but he didn't seem to notice.

Odd.

The young man stumbled into Jelsi, appearing to be rather ill. The Magister quickly excused himself, obviously concerned for the young man, calling him Felix, and left them in the tavern. Jelsi revealed that Felix had slipped her a note. They were to go to the Chantry, because they were in danger. Arturia had a bad feeling.

* * *

Long story short, Dorian was a delight, though Arturia wished they had met under better circumstances. It would seem that they had found themselves in quite a mess. They headed back to Haven to plan their next move. They would have to be careful. The Venatori cult clearly wanted the Herald dead.

When they arrived at Haven, Arturia decided to go for a walk. The demons were still on her mind. After fighting them for so long at Dwarfson's pass, the exhaustion had just overwhelmed her; it had never occurred to her to be afraid of them, but there at Redcliffe gates, then again at the Chantry, she had found herself plagued by fear, just as she had a decade before when facing darkspawn. She could push through, she always had, but that didn't mean it wouldn't shake her. She had fought demons in the Fade before, in her dreams, but they were never as scary there, because she knew she could beat them with sheer force of will, and she would always wake up. But here, in the waking world? They were just like the darkspawn: twisted, gruesome reflections of something that had once been less than evil.

She was afraid of them.

Jelsi seemed to relish fighting the demons. Perhaps that was a good thing, because it seemed to be her fate to battle them until they were all driven from this world, but she was almost overzealous about it. How could she be so fearless? Arturia shivered at the very thought of the terror demons. They were monstrous.

Arturia knelt by the path and rubbed some snow on her face, taking a few deep breaths. "Just demons. You can kill them. They die, just like anything else." She muttered to herself, trying to chase the fear away. The Breach swirled in the edge of her vision. She closed her eyes. "Just twisted spirits. That's all it is." Her fingers sparked and lightning raced up the tree in front of her until it exploded, sending a loud boom echoing around the valley.

"Shit." She huffed and got up, walking quickly away from it. "Get it together." She scolded herself. "What are you, some da'len? Some circle apprentice they keep on the back lines? Pull yourself together." She growled, shoving her hands in her pockets. Spellweaver hummed against her back, reacting to her emotions. Panic welled up in her chest and tears pricked at her eyes. She ripped a hand out of her pocket and swiped at them furiously. "They're just demons."

She could practically see the despair demon's gnarled hands reaching for her, she could feel the cold as it tried to drain every last drop of warmth from her skin. She could imagine the drool glistening on the long rows of teeth that wound down the gaping mouth extending halfway down the body of the terror demons. The shades, lost things of an unnamed emotion, desperate to suck the life from anything and everything in this world. And the all-consuming rage.

"A mage afraid of demons," Arturia tried laughing at herself, sniffling. "What a joke. Come on, pull it together. I mean, they're not that different from the Fade." Her heart was pounding in her ears. In the moment, with all of the happenings of Redcliffe, she had been able to handle it. Her mind was kept busy. But now, with nothing to think about, she could do nothing but think about how frightened she was. She knew it was just a momentary lapse. It had happened not too long after the battle of Denerim as well. That didn't make it any less frustrating.

"To be fair," a Ferelden drawl scared her half to death and she whirled around. Cullen was standing on the path, gazing up at the breach. "Demons are rather terrifying." His hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword, and his breath drifted up in clouds from his mouth as he spoke.

Arturia quickly turned her face away, wiping at the tears that were freezing to her face. "You startled me." She hated how her voice caught in her throat. "My apologies." She heard the crunch of snow as he stepped closer. "Are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern. She nodded, keeping her face turned away. "I'm fine. It's nothing." She cleared her throat.

"When I was stationed in the Ferelden Circle," Cullen began, hesitation in his voice, "it fell to demons, blood mages, and abominations. It's easy to put up a front, to act like they don't get to you, but they're demons. If they didn't get to you, we wouldn't be so concerned about them." Arturia smiled a bit. "Never mind that they kill people." Cullen chuckled. "That too." She felt his gloved hand brush against hers, an invitation. She took it, grasping his hand firmly and taking comfort in his presence. He didn't make her look at him, he didn't make her admit she was afraid, and he didn't make her talk about it. He knew, and he understood. She was grateful. For now, they didn't talk. They simply held hands and gazed up at the Breach, taking comfort in silent companionship.


	7. Author's Note

I know I havent updated in a long time, I'm sorry! I promise I haven't abandoned this story. Work has just been taking over my life, and I'm planning a big move soon, and I haven't had a whole lot of time to myself. I'll get back to it soon, I promise. Thanks for all the support!


	8. While There Is Breath In My Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: We're just going to skip the In Hushed Whispers quest because no one likes writing that one over and over again unless they have something new to add to in, and in this case I do not, so here we are, back in Haven afterwards with a full alliance with the mages.

Arturia still didn't understand quite what had happened with Dorian and Jelsi getting sent through time, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to. She preferred magic that made sense. She just knew that somehow they had succeeded in thwarting Alexius's plans, so she'd stick with her good old battle magic and leave the time tearing to Dorian.

In the meantime, Jelsi was preparing to seal the Breach. She had won the mages over, she had the power, now all that was left was to march up to the Breach and get down to business. Jelsi seemed apprehensive, but determined. Arturia was rather relieved that she at least had enough sense to be concerned about the effects that such an event might have.

That night, when the Breach was closed with Jelsi unharmed, Haven celebrated. Arturia had learned her lesson about alcohol, and mostly avoided it, though she had enough to feel pleasantly warm. She danced with those around her, the soldiers and the merchants, the servants and the faithful, everyone whom had come to celebrate. She practically ran into Blackwall, whose eyes lit up when he saw her, and without a word they danced together, hooking elbows and spinning around in the folkdance shared among the residents of Haven. Arturia did not know how to dance, not really, but Blackwall clearly did, and he led her through the steps with ease, one hand on the small of her back, the other firmly grasping hers; she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding. It certainly seemed loud enough to her. His scent, the smell of pine sap, iron, and horses, was intoxicating. His eyes glistened with delight, and Arturia didn't even try to keep the grin off of her face. All around them, music played, people laughed, people sang, people drank; it was a time of merriment and delight.

It's a shame it was so short-lived.

The alarm bells seemed to break a spell that was over Haven, shattering the sense of peace and joviality. Arturia stopped dead in her tracks, her hair falling in her face, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were red from drink and dancing. She looked towards the mountains, where a sea of torches was crossing through the pass. She turned to Blackwall. His face went from one of surprise to hardened readiness. He let her go, the last lingering cobwebs of celebration shaken from them both, and headed for the gates. Arturia followed, feeling the gentle hum of Spellweaver on her back.

Jelsi was already down by the gates, along with Cullen. Josephine ran by, hurrying towards the Chantry, shouting a warning. "Civilians, get to the Chantry! Soldiers, to arms!" Arturia drew Spellweaver, apprehension rising in her chest. "That's not good," Blackwall muttered beside her. They ran through the gates, where the Inquisitions forces were engaging…  _Creators_ , what  _are_  those things?!

Arturia didn't have time to wonder as she charged the nearest creature. Spellweaver crackled with energy as she swung it through the air. The creature, which she now recognized to be wearing twisted Templar armor, screeched at her and lashed out. She darted back, painfully aware that she wasn't wearing her armor. It was still in the hayloft where she had left it at the beginning of the celebrations. She didn't even have the fur coat, since the alcohol and the dancing had warmed her up enough to remove it. All she had was a thick shirt and her trousers. She could afford no mistakes.

She cast fade shroud over herself, hoping to minimize any damage she might take, and lashed out at the creature. Up close, she could tell that it had been corrupted by red lyrium. Had these Templars been taking red lyrium? "Fenedhis!*" She growled as she battled these creatures. She could see Jelsi down the trail with Solas, Cassandra, and Vivienne, battling to keep a group of soldiers free to man a trebuchet.

On her other side, Cullen was swarmed with the creatures. Blackwall joined him in battle, the two forming a shield wall, rallying a few other soldiers, and driving the red Templars back away from the mages firing on them from a distance. Arturia stayed where she was and guarded the gate. Any red Templars that made it by either of the two groups met their end with her.

Her fade shroud faltered, her mana drained, just as Jelsi was returning from burying a large portion of the red Templar forces under an avalanche caused by the trebuchets. Arturia took a few deep breaths, her head spinning, and leaned against the outer wall. A dragon flew overhead, and Arturia nearly fell to the ground, her free hand coming to her mouth in horror. No, that couldn't be an archdemon! Not here.

"Arturia!" Cullen called out to her. She shook her head, trying to clear it. "Arturia, we have to get to the Chantry!" Jelsi shouted over the fray. The ever constant glow of the marching army of corrupted Templars marched closer. "Go, Herald, the tavern is burning! I'll get everyone else inside! Blackwall, Lysette is overwhelmed!" She could hear their screeches. A hand grabbed her arm. She spun her head around to look into a pair of worried golden eyes, and she felt grounded, if only for a moment.

"Cullen," she smiled at him. "Get everyone to safety. None shall pass through these gates while there is breath in my body." Cullen's face twisted in despair, "you don't have to…" A scream could be heard over the roar of the dragon overhead. Arturia put her hand on Cullen's arm. "Do not let it win." Cullen nodded slowly, sweat mingling with tears, barely visible through the haze of smoke.

Arturia leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his, dropping Spellweaver to gently touch the other side of his face. She kissed his cheek softly. "You don't have much time. I'll hold them as long as I can, but I cannot hold the whole wall. Go." Cullen pressed something cold into her hand, and she felt the familiar hum of lyrium against her palm. "A gift from the mages. They didn't know I stopped taking it. Make good use of it. Arturia," He glanced out at the approaching army. A red Templar crawled over the remains of a trebuchet. "There's no time." He looked back at her, his eyes full of an emotion she was unfamiliar with, but it tugged at her heart all the same. "Maker take you to his side." His gloved fingers brushed over her cheek briefly, then he turned away from her and pulled the gates of Haven closed behind him.

Arturia picked up Spellweaver, slashing at the red Templar just as it lunged for her. She popped the cork off of the lyrium bottle and downed it, feeling the power flow through her. She killed the red Templar and turned to face the next. They bore down on her in an endless tidal wave; she had to think quickly. She had to give them time. She had to cause some sort of chaos.

 _That's it!_  She had never been able to sustain it for long, but the best battlemages had mastery over a spell known as elemental chaos. Arturia cast it, feeling the immense drain on it before its full effect had even been reached. The ground around her swirled with pure energy, lashing out at the red Templars trying to storm the gate. All of the elemental magics clashed around her in a chaotic symphony, eviscerating any that got too close. It sapped her mana, draining the lyrium from her veins, but she couldn't let it stop there. She had to keep going. She fell to her knees, allowing the magic to draw from her life force. Blood dripped from her nose as she braced her hands against the ground.

A low rumble overwhelmed any other sound, and the red Templars stopped coming, looking beyond her. She looked over her shoulder to see an avalanche tumbling down over Haven. She ceased her spell and scrambled for the shelter of the wall. If she had any hope of surviving, that was it. She curled into a ball and closed her eyes as the snow and rubble washed over her, tossing her about, battering her against the landscape, and burying her with the village.

* * *

Arturia woke to blinding light, and closed her eyes until they adjusted. Everything hurt. Her whole body felt bruised and battered, she probably had a few cracked ribs, and she was badly wounded, but she was alive. Barely able to breathe, she fought back panic. She spat, and it lingered on her face, so she began digging in front of her, since that way was up. Spit, dig in the opposite direction that it flows; she remembered her Keeper's first telling her that.

Her fingers were numb and the cold sapped her energy, but she kept digging. It got easier and easier to breathe, and though progress was slow, she eventually was able to hear voices. "Oi, you hear that?" "Hear what?" "Shut up and listen. There. That. Someone's digging. Here! Someone's buried!" "What if it's a red Templar?" "Then we kill it, now get moving!"

Then the snow was off of her, and strong hands were beneath her arms, dragging her from the snow's icy clutches. A young man sat her on the ground and held something hot to her lips. "Here," he murmured. "Drink this. It'll warm you up." Arturia barely tasted the thick paste as it slid down her throat. It was warm, and she did feel better afterwards.

Arturia looked up at her savior. A Tevinter, clearly, though she had never met him before. A Dalish woman stood behind him, along with a grizzled looking man. "You look rough," the grizzled man stated, Ferelden by his accent. "What's your name?" "Art..." Arturia's voice was scratchy, and the breath had to be dragged from her lungs, as if they were full of cobwebs. "Artu-" She burst into a fit of painful coughs, each one sending pain shooting through her body. "Easy now, don't push yourself too hard," the Tevinter man eased her back, laying her down. "I'm Krem, this is Dalish and Stitches. We're part of the Bull's Chargers, working for the Inquisition. You're safe now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A common curse


	9. Prayers of the Faithful

Even the warmth of the horse beneath her and the arms of the Tevinter, Krem, holding her steady from behind could not shake the chill from Arturia's bones. They were at a canter, pushing the horse for distance, trying to get to… well, Arturia didn't know where they were going, only that they had to get there soon. Though no longer cradled in death's arms, Arturia was not quite out of death's icy clutches yet. She could feel the effects of the snow in her lungs, the water clogging them, the tiny cuts bringing blood up in her throat, splattering across her glove with every cough. She couldn't feel her feet.

Krem had left the other Chargers back at the ruins of Haven to continue searching for survivors and supplies. Arturia wasn't quite able to focus on what he had said after he had put her on the horse. Her head lolled on his shoulder. Her mana was drained, so she couldn't even summon a bit of warmth to her hands. She didn't have the energy to shiver. She looked a mess, with the remains of dried blood frozen on her upper lip, her face bruised and battered, her clothing in tatters, her hands clutching weakly to the horse's mane. Even worse, Spellweaver was gone. She felt as if she had lost a part of herself.

If she survived this, she would search for it herself.

They finally emerged from the game trail onto a semblance of an actual road, and Krem was able to urge the horse into a rolling gallop. The arm wound tightly around Arturia's waist brought her great agony, but it was preferable to falling off. She didn't have the strength to move with the horse at the moment.

Then she saw it, nestled between two mountains in the distance; a massive stone fortress towered over the valley, its walls seeming to grow with every thundering fall of the horse's hooves. "There," she could barely hear Krem's voice by her ear. "Skyhold. We're almost there."

They thundered across the bridge and burst into the courtyard, startling the guards there. Krem brought the horse to a screeching halt, shouting, "a healer! Someone get a healer, damn it! And some fucking blankets! You, help me get her down. Be careful, don't touch her ribs." Arturia's vision blurred as she felt hands on her legs, pulling her off of the horse. She was lowered haphazardly onto a stretcher, then onto the ground.

"Maker's balls!" Arturia heard a familiar voice, and something warm was placed over her torso. The smell of pine almost drowned out the stench of blood and bile. "Arturia, hang on." Blackwall's voice cut through the white noise, a grounding point in the chaos. "Where's the healer, damn it!? The surgeon, at the very least!" He barked at the men around him. Arturia could see the outline of his back against the sun. He turned to her, his eyes filled to the brim with both relief and terror. "You're going to be alright," he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. His voice cracked into a whisper. "You're going to be alright."

Then she no longer had the strength to keep her eyes open.

* * *

"Maker," a quiet voice roused the elf from her slumber, "though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder."* Arturia shifted her head slightly. Her throat was painfully dry, and the chill in her chest made her entire body tense. The air smelled strongly of crushed elfroot and embrium, and she could feel the lingering traces of magic in her body.

"Numavan,*" she croaked, rolling onto her side in a fit of painful coughs. Her body ached. The man kneeling beside her cot nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke. "Maker's breath!" His golden hair shone in the light of the fire in the roaring hearth. "You're awake! Maker, I thought you weren't going to wake up!" He was clearly overwhelmed with relief, but Arturia had yet to rub the sleep from her eyes and had little patience with such a painful feeling in her throat. "Water!" She insisted, propping herself up on her elbow, her head spinning.

The man helped her to sit up and held a water skin to her lips. She tried to down the whole thing, but he pulled it away from her. "Not all at once," he spoke gently. "You'll get sick. You've been out for a few days now." She rubbed her eyes, and it was only then that she recognized Cullen's voice.

"Cullen," she eased herself back gingerly. "What happened?" Cullen grimaced, "we lost. The Inquisitor had to bury Haven in an avalanche in order for us to escape." Arturia felt her gut twist in apprehension. "We  _lost?_  The archdemon is still out there? Who is the Inquisitor?" Cullen blinked, then stated, "right, you weren't here. Jelsi was named Inquisitor. As for the dragon, it is no true archdemon, according to Solas; merely blighted. Corypheus, however…" Cullen explained all that he knew about the ancient magister turned darkspawn.

Arturia was horrified. "That is so much worse." Cullen nodded solemnly. "We lost many lives. If it weren't for you and the Inquisitor, we would have lost many more. Jelsi risked her life to face Corypheus. She buried Haven using the last trebuchet. If it weren't for you, Haven would have been too overrun to have given us that chance."

Arturia sat up rather suddenly, "Spellweaver!" She grunted, clutching her side as pain shot through her. Cullen gently pushed her back down. "Easy, you're not better yet." "You don't understand," Arturia gripped his wrist. "I can't just-" "We'll find it." He assured her, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "But it won't do anyone any good if you kill yourself trying to get to it. It's not going anywhere."

Arturia laid her head back on the pillow, relenting. Cullen asked quietly, "are you in any pain?" "No, I'm just dandy. I feel like dancing." She rolled her eyes. Cullen laughed quietly, shaking his head. "A stupid question, I know. I just…" He sighed, his expression falling. "I thought I had lost you. I prayed, I begged the Maker, that somehow you would survive. Then I heard they had found you, only to find out that you might not even wake up. I prayed, every chance I got, and you only seemed to get worse." A slight smile crossed his face. "Yet here you are, by some miracle, and you're sassing me." Arturia winked, "I do my best to keep things interesting." He chuckled quietly, "well try to steer clear of near death experiences in the future, alright?"

She noticed how utterly exhausted he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, and his palms had little crescent-shaped imprints, as if he spent significant amounts of time with his fists clenched. The fingertips of his gloves, resting on the side table, were worn out. The knuckles of the gloves were worn as well, and had splinters in them. He too, had his fair share of bruises and cuts. Even his voice was strained. Did he spend much time yelling?

"Cullen," Arturia slipped her hand from beneath the blankets and reached for him. "You need some rest." For a moment, he looked as if he were going to brush her off. Instead, he slumped over, resting his elbows on his knees and gently grasping her fingers. "How can I rest? I failed. I failed, and so many died for it. I cannot let that happen. I failed," he lowered his gaze to the stone floor. "And I almost lost you."

"You didn't fail," Arturia's heart ached for him. "The Inquisition survived. These men and women still follow you, because they know you did everything you could. They survived because of you." "How can you say that?" Cullen rested his forehead against her fingers. "You almost died."

Arturia pulled her hand from his and lifted his chin, "look at me," she demanded quietly. His golden eyes were full of aching sorrow and guilt. She longed to take it from him, but she knew it wasn't so simple. "I chose my fate, and here I am before you, alive. I made that decision. As for everyone else, they follow you, and I know I would follow you to the end of the world. You are an excellent Commander and a good man."

It would take more than words to erase his pain, but her words did help to ease it. The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a half-smile that made Arturia's breath catch in her throat. "Thank you," he murmured. Arturia nodded, then asked, "can I have some more water now?" Cullen handed her the skin, "drink it slowly. Hey, slowly, not all at once."

Arturia let out a sigh of content when her thirst was quenched. She shivered, asking, "are there any more blankets?" Cullen shook his head, "more blankets won't help if you're not producing the heat to warm them. I can pull you closer to the hearth, but I don't want to risk setting the blankets on fire." Arturia knew the timing was probably atrocious, but she couldn't miss out on the opportunity to flirt. "You could always warm me up." Cullen's cheeks flared immediately. He scratched his neck and looked away, "well, I can't let you freeze under my watch. I have to return to my duties soon, but I suppose I could for a little while." Arturia hadn't actually expected it to work, but she wasn't complaining.

Arturia squeaked at the rush of cold air as Cullen lifted the blankets behind her, but it was soon forgotten as his body heat flooded over her. He wrapped his arms around her stiffly, clearly unsure of himself. Arturia was just grateful for the warmth at that point. She settled with her back to his chest, letting out a contented sigh. "Just don't squeeze," she mumbled, "my ribs still hurt." "Of course." He started to relax, and Arturia found that their bodies fit quite well together. She closed her eyes and dozed off, content in the Commander's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chant of Light, Canticle of Trials, 1:10
> 
> *I thirst


	10. Better Moods

Deep breaths of fresh mountain air were a welcome change after being cooped up in a dark, smoky room for the duration of the worst of her recovery. Arturia wasted no time in trying to get back into the swing of things, wanting to be prepared for whatever she might encounter on her quest to find her lost sword. She sparred with Blackwall just outside of the barn, though she was growing frustrated with him. He was treating her as if she were made of glass, letting her win, and that wasn't what she wanted.

Therefore, she felt justified in landing a particularly hard blow on his shoulder, which echoed with a loud crack. Blackwall let out a grunt, "what was that for?" "If you don't want to be hit, block it," Arturia huffed. "A dummy can block better than that." She raised her wooden sword for another blow. Blackwall met it with his own and pushed her back. She ducked beneath his arm and went to sweep at his legs. He nimbly stepped back and brought his sword down on her outstretched leg.

She bit back a cry of pain, hissing quietly and retreating a few paces back. Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You've only just recovered," he scolded. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard." Arturia blew a strand of hair out of her face. "I don't have any time to waste. Spellweaver-" "Isn't going anywhere," he interrupted. "You won't be any good to anyone if you kill yourself trying to get to it."

Arturia hung her head. Blackwall dropped his stance, sympathy crossing over his expression. "Come on, don't look like that. You're making me feel bad. We'll find your sword. Just have a little patience." Arturia scowled, "it could be gone. The red Templars could have taken it, or the avalanche could have swept it away. The Hero of Ferelden entrusted it to me and I've gone and lost it!" She hurled her training sword at the stone walls of Skyhold. It clattered loudly off of them and landed in the grass. Blackwall set his aside. "It's not like you simply misplaced it. You almost gave your life defending the Inquisition from an attack."

Arturia shook her head. "I've lost a vital part of myself. I have to get it back." Blackwall set his training sword aside. "You will." He seemed so sure, but Arturia felt nothing except despair. She leaned against the crumbling well and crossed her arms. Blackwall approached her, his voice soft. "You'll get it back. I swear it." Arturia, distraught, would hear none of it. "How do you know?!" She turned her face away from him, onyx eyes brimming with tears. "I am not strong enough to leave Skyhold yet. The magic here, it keeps me warm; I cannot leave its bounds before I am fully recovered. The longer we wait, the smaller the chance of finding it."

Blackwall put a hand on her shoulder, leaning on the well beside her. "Have faith." Arturia scoffed. "In what? I do not believe in your Maker. Any gods I might have called my own are long since lost and cannot hear me. I am no fool, Blackwall. Faith is a driving force in the heat of battle, but now? It is useless to me." She pushed off from the well and stormed away, in search of a fire to ward the chill away from her core.

* * *

Arturia felt awful. It had been four days since Blackwall had left, and still no word from him. The last anyone had seen of him, he had gathered up his battle and camping gear and ridden out towards the mountain pass to where Haven had once been. She shouldn't have been so sharp with her words. She had insulted his faith, she had pushed him away when he was only trying to comfort her, and now she might have pushed him to his death. Haven was abandoned at that point, and the red Templars might return. The Bulls Chargers had long since returned with everything they had retrieved, and Spellweaver was not among them. Jelsi refused to send anyone else. Arturia couldn't blame her. The Inquisition was spread thin as it was, and Jelsi was preparing to leave herself, to head for Crestwood to find Hawke and hopefully track down the Grey Wardens.

Why had Blackwall gone? Was he attempting to retrieve Spellweaver? Surely he wasn't going to search the entirety of the site himself. Even if he did find Spellweaver, he wouldn't be able to pick it up; it would shock him. Arturia wanted to go after him herself, and almost did after the third day, considering herself healthy enough, but Jelsi forbade it, and as much as Arturia wanted to tell her to shove off, she knew better than to challenge the newly named Inquisitor in front of everyone, so she obeyed. It would do no one any good to see the Inquisitor's inner circle weakened because of her.

So Arturia waited. She stood on the eastern wall of the battlements, praying for his safe return, despite what she had said. Keen eyes scanned the snowy landscape, to no avail. Even after the sun set, she waited, though she couldn't see through the flurries that blew between the mountains, though she knew he was probably camping if he was out there, she waited.

"You'll freeze out here." A voice behind her startled her, and she whirled around, her eyes widening at the frosty-bearded man before her with a sly smile on his face and a large bundle of blankets in his arms. "Blackwall!" She threw her arms around him, relief overwhelming her. "Thank the Creators you're safe!" She drew back, a stern scowl coming over her. "Don't you ever do that to me again! What were you thinking?! No one knew where you had gone or why, and you didn't even send word!" Blackwall's chuckle rumbled low in his chest. "I was a bit busy. I have something for you."

He placed the bundle of blankets in her arms. It was almost as big as she was. Her fingers fumbled as she peeled back the layers. She recognized a few of the innermost layers as enchanted wrappings, used by Templars to transport dangerous artifacts. She looked up at Blackwall questioningly. He shrugged, "I asked some of the mages if I could borrow something like that. They put me in touch with a tranquil who had it. Go on, it won't unwrap itself." Arturia pulled back the final layer, gasping as Spellweaver hummed in reaction to her presence. She grasped the hilt and lifted it up, barely able to believe her eyes. "You found it?"

"I did," Blackwall stated proudly. "How?" Arturia was astonished. Blackwall had a gleam in his eye. "That would be telling, wouldn't it?" Arturia broke into a grin, "you cheeky little…" she hugged him again, pressing her cheek to his, not caring about the frost that clung to his beard. "Thank you, Blackwall." Warm arms wrapped around her waist. "You're welcome."

Arturia went to move back, but to her surprise, Blackwall's arms remained firmly around her. She raised an eyebrow. Blackwall cleared his throat, "most ladies find some way to express their gratitude to the man who goes on a quest for them." He smiled humorously. "I don't suppose you have a lace handkerchief to bestow as a token of your appreciation?" Arturia laughed softly, "that I do not, but you are right, where are my manners? Wardens are so underappreciated these days. Ser knight, allow me to express my thanks." She stood on her toes and brought the hand that wasn't holding Spellweaver to his cheek. She pressed her lips to his other cheek, just above his beard.

"You are too kind, my lady," Blackwall's arms slackened around her. Arturia smiled, feeling the tickle of his beard against her chin. "I'm not finished yet," she murmured, and kissed his face again, then once more, each kiss closer to his lips, but she stopped when she felt him tense. "Is something wrong?" She asked, leaning back to look at him. He had a pained look in his eyes. "I do not deserve your affections," he began. "Nonsense," she tutted. He shook his head, "you don't understand. I am not the man you think I am."

Arturia huffed. "I believe I am free to decide that for myself. If you are saying you don't want my affections, then just say so." She paused, and he seemed almost baffled. "I'd be a liar if I said that. Any man would be lucky to catch so much as a glance from you." Arturia smiled warmly. "Then it's my place to determine what kind of man I think you are, and I think you are a kind, strong, courageous, bear of a man that I would very much like to kiss right now, if you'll let me."

Blackwall tightened his arms around her, practically engulfing her. "Of course. I'd be a fool if I didn't." Arturia kissed him, softly at first. She had never kissed anyone with a beard, and it was strange. She found she rather liked it, though it tickled. It made her giggle quietly against his lips. "Something funny?" He mumbled between kisses. "Tickles," she commented, slowly pulling her fingers through his beard. She could feel his smile against her lips. "You're not kissing me hard enough then." His kisses grew more heated, and she matched him, tangling her hand in his hair, letting her tongue dart out to brush along his lip. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and gave a gentle tug, sending shivers down her spine. He was certainly an excellent kisser, she'd give him that.

She was breathless when they broke apart. Blackwall, too, was catching his breath. "If that's what I get for a sword, next time I'm bringing you the head of a dragon." Arturia grinned, her cheeks flaring. "Are you prepared for the consequences?" Blackwall chuckled softly. "You'd better get some rest, little miss. I should too, if I want to be awake enough to travel with the Inquisitor." Arturia reluctantly withdrew from his arms, feeling rather cold without his body heat. "Goodnight, Blackwall." She smiled at him. He caught her hand and kissed it softly. "Goodnight, Arturia." He winked at her. "Be prepared. I'll be bringing you that dragon."


	11. Weak in the Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Personal theory- In the cutscene with Cullen playing chess with the Inquisitor, I think he knows if you let him win. He kind of glances twice at the board and smiles at the Inquisitor knowingly. He's a smart man, and we know that he's practiced chess since he was a boy. There's no way he wouldn't know. Anyway, just a personal theory of mine.
> 
> Have a nice Cullen moment. It's time to get into the real romance stuff. Inspired by the way Cullen surprise kisses the Inquisitor during his canon romance, with a little more spice. I like to think that once Cullen gets past his initial awkwardness, he's not shy at all.

The eastern wall ended up being Arturia's usual haunt, but one afternoon, she found herself in Skyhold's garden, tending to a royal elfroot plant and idly listening to conversation between workmen cleaning up the place. High up on wooden structures they worked, careful not to slip, or to cut themselves on the strange elven arrows littering the rooftops of Skyhold.

Jelsi had been gone for a few days now, and had taken Blackwall, Varric, and Solas with her. Arturia was in the end stages of her recovery, and was certain that upon the Inquisitor's return, she would be able to leave Skyhold to join in the next adventure. She had been sparring with Cullen and his soldiers, as well as practicing magic with the mages, and was nearly back at her full capacity.

"You'll never beat me with a strategy like that, Commander." Dorian's voice floated over, and Arturia looked up to where he and Cullen sat in the shade of a young tree, playing a game of chess. Arturia had never played chess herself, but Cullen seemed to greatly enjoy the game, when he had time to spare. They had barely spoken, outside of combat training. He was always terribly busy. She pitied him. It was good to see him relaxing.

"I'm just testing the waters." Cullen replied smoothly, moving one of the ivory pieces on the board. Arturia stood, brushing dirt from her hands. Royal elfroot was so finicky; she had spent nearly an hour moving it to a bigger pot, and was happy to be done with it. She leaned against a pillar at the edge of the garden and watched their game from a distance. Dorian caught her eye, gave her a sly smile, and moved a piece. "You'd better be careful, Commander. The stakes have been raised." Cullen, whom had his back to Arturia, looked up from the board. "What do you mean?" Dorian leaned back in his chair. "You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of a lady, would you?"

Cullen glanced over his shoulder and caught Arturia's eye. Arturia gave a friendly wave. Cullen flashed her a smile and turned back to the board. "I see what you mean. I could hardly stand to lose in front of a local hero." Arturia smiled to herself. They carried on with their game of chess.

"It seems like this one is mine, Commander. Better luck next time." Dorian looked smug as he made the final move, ending the game in his favour. Cullen took the defeat gracefully. "Well done, but I have to insist. Again. I've figured out your style." Dorian tutted and rose from his chair. "It will have to wait, I'm afraid. I have work to do, and I've put it off for too long already. This time tomorrow?" Cullen nodded, and Dorian exited the gardens.

Cullen looked over his shoulder at Arturia. "Would you care for a game? I find myself with extra time on my hands today, by some incredible stroke of luck." Arturia approached, looking down at the board. "I'd like to, but I'm afraid I don't know the rules. I've never played chess." Cullen fiddled with a piece, "I'd be happy to teach you, if you like." Arturia sat where Dorian had been, nodding. "Alright, Commander. Teach me your game."

They spent about an hour there, first learning the basic rules, then practicing them. Finally, they played a game. Arturia lost, of course, but she was beginning to understand the game. "Again!" She insisted, her competitive drive showing through. "I get it now." She was on the edge of her seat, her eyes blazing. Cullen laughed softly, "alright, alright. Don't think I'll go easy on you, though." Arturia grinned, "that's the last thing I want, Commander." He got a bit of a smug look on his face, and Arturia's heart fluttered at the way the smirk tugged at his lips. She cleared her throat and looked away.

They played again, and Arturia lost, again. "Damn it," she growled. "Once more!" Cullen shook his head. "As much as I'd like to, I don't have the entire day." Arturia slumped back in her seat. "Fine," she sighed. "Tomorrow then?" She looked up hopefully. Cullen nodded, beaming. "Of course. After I beat Dorian." Arturia grinned once more.

"Walk with me? I have to drop by my office, then make an inspection of the battlements. I'd like some company." Cullen stated, rising from his seat. Arturia stood as well, taking a moment to stretch her back before following the Commander through the main hall, then the rotunda- the quickest route to his office in one of the two towers overlooking the entrance to Skyhold. The other was unoccupied. Arturia had been considering taking up residence there, as soon as the head surgeon released her from sleeping under her careful watch. It would take some fixing up, but Arturia didn't mind.

"I'm glad to see you've recovered," Cullen began rather awkwardly as they crossed the bridge to his office. Repairs to Skyhold were coming along quickly, though there was a long ways to go yet. "Thank you," Arturia replied. "I should be out of the infirmary within the next couple of days."

"Have you been assigned quarters?" Cullen asked, holding the door to his office open for her. She shook her head. "No. I'll probably clean up the other tower, since no one seems to be moving to claim it. It shouldn't bother anyone if I stick to the top floor." Cullen looked concerned. "Will you be warm enough?" Arturia laughed softly. "I'm not a child. I'll be fine. If you're so concerned," she winked, her tone teasing, "come keep me warm yourself." Cullen blushed darkly and left it at that.

He retrieved a few papers and a clipboard from his desk and exited the tower to the west, overlooking the bridge in and out of Skyhold. "Repairs are coming along nicely," he told her, half talking to himself. "We'll be prepared for any assault Corypheus might throw at us." Arturia leaned on the stone barrier, her breath floating away in clouds. The furs around her kept her warm, but her nose was red with the cold. Spellweaver hummed against her back, giving off a bit of warmth as well. She hadn't let it out of her sight.

"You didn't see him, did you?" Cullen's voice caught in his throat. He cleared it, and looked out over the snow below. "Corypheus, I mean." Arturia shook her head. "He must have been truly monstrous, for everyone to be more afraid of him than the dragon that looks like an archdemon." Cullen shuddered visibly, "he is." Arturia put a hand on his arm, hoping to comfort him. He put his own gloved hand over it and smiled slightly. "We will be victorious." He stated, more reassuring himself than her. Arturia nodded in agreement. "Of course we will. Jelsi is unstoppable, Leliana knows everything, Josephine could charm a dragon out of its horde, and we have the best Commander this world has ever seen. Nothing could stand between us and victory." She hoped she sounded more certain than she felt.

Apparently she did, because Cullen's smile was sincere, and warmed her heart. He didn't say anything else; he merely gestured for them to continue on with the inspection. They entered the second tower over Skyhold's entrance bridge. Arturia sneezed at all of the dust, stepping over broken floorboards and peering up into the rafters. It would take a good amount of work to make the space livable, but she was up to the task, and she had magic on her side.

"You were a Templar," Arturia mused out loud, inspecting the stone walls of the tower for soundness. "I was," Cullen confirmed, looking up from his feet. "What brings this up?" Arturia shrugged. "I would probably end up using magic to fix this place up, would that bother you?" Cullen seemed a bit surprised. "From you? No. I trust you." Arturia smiled, "well, thank you." Cullen stepped towards her, seeming like he wanted to say something. Arturia paused, "something on your mind?"

Cullen scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Ever since they found you after Haven, I've been meaning to talk to you. I just haven't found the right thing to say yet. I almost lost you, and I still can't figure out how to express how that makes me feel. I…" He sighed heavily and took hold of her hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of her knuckles, avoiding her eyes. "Even in such a short amount of time, you've become very important to me. I may not have the right words, but I don't want to put off telling you that any longer."

Arturia's heart jumped into her throat. It was not the first time she had experienced such a feeling. "I care about you too, Cullen," she began, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to misread him and make a fool of herself, and of course, thoughts of Blackwall lingered in the back of her mind. What a mess she had gotten herself into! Her heart beat faster and faster; she found herself at a loss for words. Fortunately, Cullen had more to say, and filled the silence.

"When we first met," he fiddled with the clipboard in his other hand, smiling as if he were amused. "You knocked the wind right out of me. Literally. Do you remember?" Arturia laughed breathlessly, "yes." Cullen dropped the clipboard, letting it clatter loudly to the ground and brought his gloved fingers to her cheek. His golden eyes bore into hers with startling intensity. "That feeling has yet to leave me," he murmured. She could feel his breath against her face; he was only inches away. She was holding hers. Her legs felt like they might crumple beneath her.

"If I'm crossing a line, tell me now," he said with a serious tone. Arturia found that she could only shake her head. When she asked herself if she wanted this, the answer was quite clearly yes.

Cullen kissed her with surprising intensity. His kisses were hungrier than Blackwall's had been, and far more insistent. This was a man that was starved for affection. Arturia found herself swept away, melting into him, her head spinning. His hand cradled the back of her head. The other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, crushing her against his chest. She tossed her arms over his shoulders, delving her fingers into his blond curls, freeing them from the confines of whatever product he used to keep them tamed. The scruff on his face rubbed harshly against her skin, leaving it tingling.

She felt his weight pushing her, and took a step back, then another, until her back was to a wall. His arm slipped out from behind her until his hand rested on her hip, his thumb digging into the curve there. She let out a soft noise as his kisses grew more heated. Her legs were shaking beneath her. Had he always been so tall? His chest seemed even broader, pressed against hers. The sharp tang of elfroot flooded her mouth when he slid his tongue along her lip. She leaned her head back a bit to let him in. His taste was intoxicating, and his hand had wandered from her hip to her backside, making her knees weak.

"Cullen," she breathed, and he broke away rather suddenly. "Maker, I'm sorry," he withdrew his hand from her rear, wiping a strand of saliva from his lip; "I got carried away." He was flustered, his eyes wide with concern and embarrassment, his hair in unruly curls, panting softly. Arturia wanting nothing more than to kiss him again. "Don't be sorry." She smirked and slid her hand down his arm and took his hand, placing it back on her hip. "Do it again." Cullen's gaze darkened, his expression sinfully enrapturing, "Maker's  _breath,_ " and he kissed her again, planting both hands on her hips, using his body to press hers against the wall, lifting her up slightly until she was on her toes.

In one fluid movement, Cullen slipped his hands down the back of Arturia's thighs and lifted her up, pulling her legs up to rest on his hips. She hooked her ankles together behind him and nibbled his lip, barely able to contain herself. He was wearing far too much armor for her tastes. He growled softly, making her shudder, squeezing her thighs before sliding his hands up her sides. "Arturia," he mumbled against her lips. The low rumble and slight Ferelden drawl in his voice drove her wild.

They were both startled senseless when a particularly strong gust of wind caused the rafters above to shift, sending a shower of mortar dust down. They froze for a moment, then laughed when they realized what had happened. Cullen rested his forehead against Arturia's. "Maker's breath, you are something else," he told her. She couldn't keep the grin off of her face, her fingers caressing his stubbly cheek.

"If I don't stop myself now, I'll never get this blasted inspection done." Cullen reluctantly allowed her to lower her feet to the ground, then made an effort to smooth his hair back, to no avail. Arturia laughed softly, "now I see why Varric calls you Curly." Cullen shot her a playful glare. He retrieved the clipboard from the dust and brushed it off, trying to shake off his flustered state as well. Arturia grinned behind her hand. Cullen glanced back up at her, his ears bright red. "Maker, stop looking at me like that. I'm trying to work." Arturia snorted, "if I remember correctly, Commander, you started it." Cullen smirked at her, and she felt like swooning. He stated, "I'll finish it too," and led the way out of the tower.


	12. Tensions

Arturia sneezed once again, wrinkling her nose. "Is all of the dust in Skyhold confined to this one room?" She asked aloud, though she was alone in the tower. She had gotten the main floor of the tower cleaned and the floorboards either put back into positioned or replaced if they were beyond recovery, and now she was up on the second floor, perched precariously on a supporting beam, hammering a board into place. She was mostly finished; she had about a fifth of the floor left to put into place.

"Arturia?" The elf looked down when a familiar voice called her name. "Up here, Inquisitor." Jelsi looked up, her blue eyes squinting to see past the dust. "There you are! You look like a giant dust nug!" Arturia laughed a bit. "I trust your trip to Crestwood was fruitful?" Jelsi sighed heavily, kicking at the dust beneath her feet. "Yes. Now I have to travel all the way out to the damn desert west of Orlais. I hate deserts." Arturia shifted to sit on the beam as opposed to kneeling on it. "I hope you'll take me with you. Misery likes company."

Jelsi laughed a bit, "it does, but I have a different task for you. Don't frown at me like that, I know what you're thinking. I'm not babying you. The surgeon cleared you and that's good enough for me. Come down here for a minute, I'll tell you." Arturia sighed and scooted along the beam until she reached the solid flooring, then made her way to the thin set of stairs that led down to the lower floor. She had considered a ladder, but between Sera, Jelsi, and Bull, she didn't want to end up drunk and trying to climb one.

Jelsi crossed her arms, "stop looking like a pouting child, this is important!" Arturia rolled her eyes. "You're the one who is as tall as an actual child." Jelsi stuck her tongue out and scrunched up her face. "Whatever you say, rabbit." She then put on a serious expression. "The former mayor of Crestwood, he… He purposefully flooded old Crestwood ten years ago, drowning all of the refugees and citizens residing there and in the caves below." Arturia's heart dropped to her stomach. "What? That's awful!" Jelsi nodded. "It is. We just brought it to light, and the bastard ran. You're a hunter, right? I want you to track him down and bring him back alive. Alive, you hear me?" Arturia nodded, her jaw clenched. "Understood."

Jelsi's stance relaxed. "Good. Now, I hear you've gotten yourself into quite the pickle." A devilish grin spread across the dwarf's face, and Arturia wanted to shrink away. "I don't know what you're talking about," Arturia averted her gaze. Jelsi rolled her eyes. "Really? I think you do, Rabbit. Because Blackwall had to ask me to bring you these." She produced a bouquet of lovely cream-coloured flowers from behind her back. Arturia gasped softly, "really?" Jelsi's expression, however, was one of partial annoyance. "Uh-huh. Loudly. In front of Cullen. And our illustrious Commander, upon hearing this, halted in his tracks, which were suspiciously pointed in this direction, and happened to ask me to bring you this, 'if I had a moment to spare.'" She slipped her hand into her pocket and produced a small box about the size of her hand. Jelsi let out a short laugh, "Said he'd do it himself, but he needed to train some soldiers. Blackwall said he'd be honoured to help. They're in the sparring ring beating the shit out of each other. For training purposes, of course. It's quite the spectacle."

Arturia gulped, rubbing her elbow nervously. "I see." Jelsi tapped her foot impatiently, "well at least take the gifts, Rabbit! I don't want to hold them all day." Arturia smiled a bit, "easy, Cloudgazer," and took the flowers from her. She untied the leather strip holding her braid (it would mostly hold itself, as long as she didn't run around too much) and wrapped it around the flowers to keep them in an orderly bunch, and set them in a mug of water on a rickety wooden table, among nails and her spare hammer. They were truly lovely flowers, and the sight of them warmed her heart.

She then took the box, and at Jelsi's curious insistence, opened it. Inside the lid was a note, written in Cullen's hand. "I'm not good with gifts, but I hope you like this one." In the box was a small pin, something one would put on a nice jacket. It was an embrium flower crafted out of gemstones, with delicate gold vines woven around it. "Oh wow," Jelsi muttered, peering over Arturia's arm. "Man's got taste, I'll give him that."

Arturia closed the box, not wanting to get the pin dusty before she even had a chance to wear it. "I'll have to thank them both," she said quietly, in a bit of a shocked state. "You have to get them to stop fighting first." Jelsi commented. Arturia waved her off, "they're training. I'm sure it'll be fine. What do you want me to do anyway? It's not my place to step in and stop the Commander's training sessions because it might be a little tense."

Jelsi sighed. "You're probably right. Still, I do think it'll be good for them to cool off a bit while you're gone. Just don't take too long. I'll miss you." She grinned. Arturia bent down and gave her a big hug. "Don't leave me out on the adventures, okay?"

Jelsi nodded, squeezing her tightly. "You'd better get packing. You don't want the trail to go cold. I'll have someone finish up your repairs here. Oh, you lost your armor at Haven, right? Drop by Harritt's before you go; I asked him to take your measurements. I'm going to have some new armor made for you." "Thank you, Lady Inquisitor," Arturia bowed mockingly. Jelsi swung at her playfully. "Enough of that, you ungrateful wretch!" Arturia giggled and went to pack up her things for the journey.

* * *

After dropping by to see Harritt in the Undercroft, Arturia gathered a pack of supplies for the journey, put on an extra coat to ward off the coat, and mounted up. As she rode through the gates, she could hear the scuffling going on in the courtyard above. She could hear Cullen's voice booming at the trainees, though she couldn't quite make out what he was saying. She could see Blackwall leaning against the fencing with his back to her. He was holding his nose, and his hands were bloody. Arturia shook her head with a smile,  _rowdy._  Oh well, she'd deal with such matters upon her return. At the moment, she had a job to do.

* * *

The songs of the night were music to her ears, the frogs in the trees covering the slight noise of her footsteps as she prowled through the underbrush, rope in hand, eyes gleaming from the reflection of the campfire she stalked towards. Next to the fire, an old man shivered and shook at every slight noise, his eyes darting about wildly. He did not feel safe. He shouldn't. He was a fugitive, after all, and the Brecelian forest was not kind to strangers.

Arturia was no stranger, however, and the trees seemed to part, their roots moving away from her feet so as not to trip her. She moved with a hunter's grace. She was Dalish, after all, and all of the adventures in the world wouldn't change her roots. The wind shifted, and the smoke from the campfire blew away from her. She let out a soft breath, stalking ever closer. He could run, sure, and she would catch him, but the forest was treacherous, and she did not want to explain to the Inquisitor why she brought back a man with a broken neck if he fell.

She circled his meager camp until she was behind him, creeping forward, muscles straining, ready for the final pounce. Finally, she was close enough to hear his ragged breathing, and she made her move. She jumped on him, wrapping the rope around him, wrestling him to the ground. Former Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood shrieked and called her all manners of colourful names, probably believing her to be some sort of demon, until she finally had him firmly bound and mostly unharmed.

"Who are you?" He asked, laying in the dust, his eyes wide with fear. Arturia sneered, what a pathetic man. If it were up to her, she'd kill him for his crimes, but it wasn't. "An agent of the Inquisition," she stated simply. "I knew you'd catch me eventually," the mayor had a look of utter defeat. "Then why bother running?" Arturia hauled him up. "Start walking." "In the middle of the night?! Are you mad?" Arturia snorted, "I am rather angry, yes, and if you want to keep your fingers, I would suggest you not make me any angrier and start walking. My horse is on the edge of the forest and that is a long way to go, so get moving."

She was just ready to be back. She had other problems to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So a question- do you guys want me to get into some steamy stuff or get more into the storyline? There will be both, but which do you want first?


End file.
